A Long Way from Home
by Atlantis Potter
Summary: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated R for s
1. Chapter I

**A Long Way from Home**

**Summary**: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated "R" for strong language and some adult material. Contains H/Hr, Ron/OC and eventually, D/G.

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

_To seek, to know and to wield  
that which shall return the balance of the darkness and the light,  
One must bear the Burdens of Eternity.  
Wisdom, love and truth are often sought and almost never truly known.  
Shades of these are well known to man and yet the true meaning of each is lost to all,  
But those who seek to return harmony to the world.  
To achieve balance is know intimately all sides,  
And to understand the necessity of one to the other._

Eternal wisdom is to know that peace is blindness,  
That to know all is to never rest.

Eternal love is to be treated to the absolute best,  
And also to the absolute worst.  
It is to love unconditionally.

Eternal truth is to know loyalty,  
And to know greed.  
It is the ability to see through,  
To the heart and soul of all that is.

He who shall wield the power to right the world,  
Shall be willing to carry the burden of that world.  
To carry that burden means to allow always for the  
Balance of the darkness and the light.

* * *

**Chapter I**

_July 14, 2003_

Hermione Jane Granger stared at the wall. It was a rather nondescript wall, definitely not worth any extra notice on her part, but nonetheless, it held her rapt attention. There was a slight crack in the off-white plaster, about four feet from the ceiling, six feet from the left wall and right over the center of her desk. She knew its exact location, had already figured its approximate length and depth and recognized that if it was not soon fixed, she would hex the plaster right off the wall.

A solid knock shook her thoughts from the offending crack and she waved her hand gently at the door of her office. "Come on in, Mum."

"Hermione? What are you doing in here?"

Hermione turned her head slowly to look at Carole Granger, who was standing just outside the door of her office with a worried look on her face. Carole Granger was the inspiration for her daughter's looks. Their eyes weren't the same color, and Hermione had her father's fair skin tone, but Carole's face was the same shape, with bright, inquisitive eyes, an understated nose, and an expressive mouth. Hermione often felt as if she was looking at a more perfect version of herself, unmarred by too many years of sadness, hurt and just blatant fear.

Carole Granger knew only bits and pieces of her daughter's harrowing school stories and knew that if she really understood the reasons behind Hermione's worry-lined forehead and the subtle lines that formed around her mouth when she frowned, it would give her nightmares and restless nights for the remainder of her life. It could not be denied that Carole Granger had experienced a sudden hurt so drastically that it threatened to tear her mind to pieces, but there was a deeper knowledge in her daughter's eyes. The brown irises betrayed wisdom beyond her years, perhaps beyond everyone's years.

"I'm just…sitting here, Mum." Hermione's eyes were now downcast and her tone was from a faraway place.

"Well, I don't recall you telling me that would part of the plan. It's a long trip this far north, Hermione, and you've done nothing but sit in this office and stare at that crack in the wall since I arrived."

The frown lines appeared on Hermione's face and she sighed, finally turning her attention fully to her mother. "I know. I'm sorry, I really am."

Sitting on the long sofa that stretched opposite of Hermione's desk, Carole looked carefully at her daughter before speaking again. "Can't you tell me what's wrong? You used to be able to tell me everything when you were little. I know you're twenty-three, but surely there's not some rule that says you can't tell me about your problems past age eighteen."

"Mum…"

"Is it Harry again?"

. Hermione looked at her hands. "Yes."

"What's happened this time?"

"Oh, it's just- he responded to my letter, about Ron. He can't, or won't, come to the Burrow. He still thinks it's too soon." 

"Too soon for what, exactly?"

"I guess, to be there, to be a part of everything again." Her gaze had shifted first to Harry's letter, a crumpled piece of parchment on her desk and then to the picture frame just behind it, holding a candid shot of Harry, Hermione and Ron after a Quidditch game in first year. They looked far more innocent than she could even imagine.

Carole's followed her daughter's eyes to the same photo and she looked at it thoughtfully for a moment. "I wish that you could tell me what happened to tear you all apart like this," she held up a hand to stop Hermione interrupting her, "and I know that your Professor McGonagall has her reasons for forbidding you to tell me anything about it, as she can be a very compelling woman, but I can't possibly imagine what has…changed you so much. It's like – like I hardly know you anymore."

Hermione felt as if her heart was breaking at the look on her mother's face. There was a part of her that wished desperately that she could curl up next to her mother, tell her the whole story and have a good cry, but the bigger part of her knew that she would die to spare her mum the pain of the truth. At that thought, Hermione steeled her resolve and stood abruptly from her spindly desk chair. After all, Carole was right in one thing: sulking about in the office during her mother's holiday had not been a part of the plan.

"Mum, if I could put any of it into words, I would. But I can't and you're right about it being too long of a trip to sit round the house and do nothing. Get your cloak, and we'll walk to the village."

A wide smile crept over Carole's face and Hermione matched it as best she could. Carole knew better than to dwell and wonder over the causes that wouldn't allow that smile to reach her daughter's eyes, and she wordlessly left the room to retrieve her things.

Braeridge Village was nestled along the rocky coast of the North Sea and hidden from unknowing Muggle eyes. It was far enough off the beaten path that her face was anonymous and untouched by the modern world enough that Muggles and wizards co-existed inside its stony walls. The village had once been a castle, its origins long forgotten and all that remained were three of the outer walls that formed a sort of crescent and butted against the Scottish coast. Passersby, the few that there were, along the winding sea road saw only stone ruins and quickly lost interest in the surrounding coastline. The cliffs that dropped off into the choppy coastal waters were dramatic and dark and fit Hermione's mental state quite well. The villagers were kind to the young brunette witch who lived in the cottage full of books at the edge of the town and minded their business.

It had been the safest place the Order could find for Hermione that was well away from the goings-on of the wizarding world, but also within their sight. They knew that she was safe and well-taken care of; many of the local village women often left various local dishes on her doorstep. She had tried several times to thank them for their kindness, but no one ever acknowledged the gifts. The women waved her away, shaking their heads and avoiding her gaze.

Hermione was as happy as could be expected. Research commanded a great deal of her time. The Order had long ago set her the task of studying the foundations of magic. She spent her time poring over ancient tomes, usually covered in cryptic runes whose meanings were long forgotten. Slowly, a timeline was beginning to emerge in her research and each day, she was closer to understanding the very essence of that which had so shaped her life.

She often exchanged owls with the Weasleys and her own mother often wrote via Muggle post. There was a friendly pub in the village and she enjoyed her cottage garden, full of useful herbs and wildflowers. Her day was a balance of her research, long hours working with potions and time spent learning how to cook. Her world was almost wholly domestic and its simplicity brought her unexpected comfort.

It was never enough, however, to take away the pain of being alone and only one-third whole. After the expulsion of Voldemort's powers from their world and the Last Battle, Harry had hastily left everything and everyone behind, retreating to a place that only McGonagall and Professor Lupin knew about. Hermione was relocated to her cottage by the sea. Only Ron had walked back into the world. His family surrounded him and brought him back into a regular life. He offered no excuses for his best friends, but simply ignored the reporters' questions as he began his adult life and tried to live as normally as possible.

The Trio led quiet lives after That Night: they were not super stars or celebrities. They shyly moved away from the public life, where no one could possibly understand everything they had given up and more importantly, the burdens that they had willingly taken up.

When Hermione had received the wedding invitation only a few months prior, she began to wonder if it was about time that she left her hiding place and resumed her life. The nightmares that had plagued her were now few and far between. She no longer jumped at any little sound. She no longer spent useless hours contemplating the thoughts that bounced endlessly through her mind. Slowly, she was beginning to strengthen her resolve, and each day, she wondered if the world wasn't a little bit lighter than it had been the day before.

Ron Weasley was marrying a colleague, Andromeda Dickens. He affectionately called her Andie and professed his undying love for her in a long, personal letter that accompanied Hermione's invitation. It was finally seeing what allowed Ron to live his life that made her decide to go. The memories that his scratchy handwriting had evoked made her hope that some of his normalcy would rub off on her and she could finally survive in the world she'd given so much to save.

The Wand & Witch sat nestled between the local chemist and a small witch's apothecary shop. A husband and wife owned the building that housed the three storefronts and lived in the small, upstairs flat. She ran the apothecary shop and he had been the village's chemist for over thirty years before training his son in the science. Their joint pub was run by the old man and he spent his day cooking homemade food and passing round steaming mugs of butterbeer. Hermione was aware of the legal gray area the establishment resided in, but no one else seemed to mind the clash of cultures. The couples' daughter kept the books for the three businesses at night and spent her day teaching Arithmancy at a school in Ireland.

"Good day, miss, what'll you and your mother have today?" Rupert Kingsley smiled at Hermione and Carol kindly.

"I'll have the fish and a butterbeer, "Hermione responded with a grin. Her order was the same each time, as Wand & Witch had the best fish and chips she'd ever tasted.

Carole placed an order for the roast beef and a pint of pumpkin juice before following her daughter to one of the tables that looked out over the lane.

"Tell me what you know about Ron's fiancée."

"Well, not much really. She teaches at Hogwarts with him, Defense against the Dark Arts, I'm told."

"How long have they known each other?"

"Since he started at the school in the fall. She's been there four years though."

"Seems awful fast. A little over nine months is a short time to know someone." Carole frowned slightly, as if the idea of such a speedy courtship didn't settle properly with her.

Hermione just shrugged and looked into the golden frothiness of her butterbeer. "I suppose. A lot in our set seem to be marrying young. Dean Thomas married that American witch and they'd only known each other for three weeks!"

Carole shook her head. "I can't imagine."

Again, Hermione just shrugged. "Maybe it was everything we saw. There was so much death and sadness. I think a lot of them are just looking to reaffirm life and be happy."

"What about you? What are you looking to do?"

"I'm just happy to exist, Mum."

Carole looked at her daughter sadly before taking her hand across the table. "Don't you have to have a reason to exist, Hermione?"

Hermione was delayed from answering as Rupert brought their meals to the table. She was thankful for the distraction and began to quickly eat her food in the hopes that Carole wouldn't say anymore on the topic.

Carole looked at Hermione carefully a moment before clearing her throat and cutting a piece of chicken. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment and spoke again. "I've decided to take a holiday."

Brightening, Hermione smiled and asked, "Where to?"

"Italy, to Florence."

"Any reason why?"

"Well, your father and I always said we'd visit Florence for our thirtieth wedding anniversary. Seeing as that's in May, I've decided to go."

"He'd want you to go."

"I absolutely agree. It's just… time. I need to do this, for me. And for him, I think."

Hermione just nodded. She admired her mother's ability to smile as she talked about Jerald Granger. Hermione's own heart ached at the very thought of her father and it had taken her years before she could think of him without feeling immense guilt.

"So you're really going to the Burrow?"

"Yes, Mum. I'm really going to the Burrow." The look on Hermione's face was one of pure steel and resolve. Carole knew in that instant that the pending trip was requiring her daughter to take drastic steps inside of her own mind. This was not just a reunion; it would be a milestone in the healing process.

"You'll need something new to wear, is there a place you can buy clothes here?"

"There's a small shop a little further down that carries robes. I could go there."

"We'll go after we finish eating. I want to help you."

The smile on Hermione's face finally reached her eyes.

"Yellow is simply an awful color on you."

"Mum! What a right terrible thing to say!" Hermione was laughing as she hung the offending garment back on its rack.

"Well, I'm just being honest. What about this one? Blue is nice."

The light blue gown was sleeveless and of a medium-weight cloth. It would be perfect in the warmer environs of the Burrow. Her own little village was still quite chilly, but she expected that the weather in Ottery St.Catchpole would be lovely.

"I like that." She took the robes from her mother's outstretched hand and quickly walked to the small dressing room in the corner of the shop. She undressed quickly and the silkiness of the fabric sent a shiver down her spine as it slid over her bare arms. She smiled slightly as the cloth began to tug and settle itself until it fit her perfectly. The self-tailoring cloth would be expensive, but as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she decided it was worth every penny. 

"There are shoes to match!" Carole called through the door. Hermione grinned as she slid out of the robes and changed. 

"Will I need something to cover up with?" she called back.

"I'll see what I can find."

Opening the door, Hermione trailed her mother as she flitted about the store, looking at long scarves and cover-ups. Finally, she settled on a flimsy, silky bit of blue cloth that shimmered as she moved it through her fingers.

The wedding began at dusk in just four days. As she paid for her new clothing, she felt a small boost of confidence. This would work after all.

* * *

_July 16, 2003_

Despite the warm temperature outside, Harry Potter couldn't help but light a fire in the grate of his small home. He liked the light it gave off better than regular lamps and something about a cheerful fire reminded him of Hogwarts. Was it all the long hours studying in the Gryffindor common room? Was it the conversations that occurred when his friends gathered around the large hearth? Was it the promise of warmth and goodness in a place where he felt safe?

_Potter, tone down the sentimental bullshit_. The thought came from nowhere and the voice sounded distinctly like Ron. That was definitely something Ron would say.

Frowning, Harry settled himself deeper into the sofa and stared into the orange flames. He was beginning to suspect that perhaps Hermione was right and he'd been cooped up here for far too long. Sure, he got out plenty. Work against dark wizards stateside was no easier than it was in Britain. They organized; they planned supposedly cunning, supposedly devilish and supposedly disastrous schemes, but mostly they got caught. After Voldemort's power and core group of Death Eaters had been scattered to the wind, the Dark Side (as Harry had come to think of it- he was rather fond of Star Wars) was mainly disorganized and dispirited. There was a balance restored; Harry and his friends had seen to that. For once in his life, Harry thought the world was mainly as it should be. At least, the world outside of him was as it should be.

The house by the ocean had been a rare sanctuary when Professor McGonagall had first brought Harry to it over five years ago. It had been remote: it was a good four or so months before Harry saw another living person and the closest town was a good thirty-minute drive. He was lulled to sleep each night by the surf crashing on the beach and he'd walked up and down the coast to settle his nerves almost daily. It was only a two-room house, plus a toilet, and sparsely furnished. Best of all, the house and its environs looked nothing like Hogwarts or Great Britain.

Harry had not set foot in Great Britain, let alone at Hogwarts since May 24th, 1998. That had been the last night of a long battle and an even longer war. When Harry, Hermione and Ron took down Voldemort on May 8th, 1998, the wizarding world had celebrated with greater enthusiasm than anyone had ever seen. It had been a Friday, and Saturday and Sunday were filled with endless celebrations. The shooting stars and flocks of owls from so many years ago seemed fairly mild against the antics over those two days.

On May 11th, seventeen school children were killed in a Death Eater attack in East London. A mediwizard clinic outside of Newcastle had been leveled by another group, killing four doctors and thirteen patients. Various other attacks, on libraries, primary schools and even the Knight Bus resulted in over 350 casualties in a single day. It was by no means the largest death toll of the war, but it was the one that hurt the most.

Havoc broke out, families fought in the streets and neighbors hexed each other over imagined slights. Once again, Harry and his friends rushed into the fray. It took just two weeks for the Death Eaters to be destroyed, but those two weeks changed everything.

A light tapping at the window drew Harry from his reverie. A familiar owl bobbed outside, looking excited and irritated at having to wait.

Rising from the couch, Harry moved to the window to let the spastic bird into his house. The infamous Pigwidgeon stared at him as it hopped around on the kitchen table. There was a piece of parchment tied to his left leg and it took a great deal of coercing from Harry to get Pig to settle down enough to let him untie it. He handed the tiny owl a treat from the center of the table and settled down to read the letter.

_Harry,_

I'm writing to you as a last-ditch effort. Ron and everyone have given up hope that you'll attend the wedding. Hermione has finally agreed to come; we expect her sometime before tea tomorrow. I know that it's been a long time and that there's a lot here you don't want to come back to, but won't you please reconsider? Andie is really great – I know you'd love her and you'd make Ron very happy if you were there.

I'm sorry if I'm out of line writing you, Harry. We just miss you. This is the biggest family event since Fred married Angelina and it didn't feel right without you there. I can't imagine Ron's wedding would be any different – it'd probably be far worse.

I've enclosed a Portkey if you change your mind. It activates tomorrow at midday your time. You'd arrive here just after five, right in time for tea. We love you Harry and hope to see you sooner rather than later.

Your Friend,

Ginny

Harry felt, surprisingly, very little reaction to Ginny's note. She was right, of course she was right. But did that make it any easier? Of course it didn't. There were a thousand reasons why he couldn't go back and the biggest were his two best friends. The guilt he felt over what they had been through had in no way lessened over the years. It had probably worsened. Ron was working at Hogwarts full-time now, but it was only two years ago when he'd worked in his father's division, hiding out behind stacks and stacks of reports. Hermione lived in the bloody middle of nowhere, for crying out loud. She hadn't gone on to any university – she'd simply gone into hiding like he had. And everything with her father…

_Down that road lies madness, Potter._

Harry shrugged off the Ron-voice in his head and read over Ginny's letter once more. Hermione's letter was on the sofa end table and it wasn't that different from Ginny's. He held them both in his hands and looked at each carefully.

The answer was still no. How could it not be? He'd put these people through enough pain. They didn't need him at the wedding – it was supposed to be a happy occasion. 

_You're wallowing in your guilt, Harry._

The unbidden voice of Hermione popped into his head and Harry let out a low sigh. Four thousand miles away and five years distance over time, but Ron and Hermione were still the voices of his conscience.

The answer was still no.

* * *

_July 17, 2003_

A large retriever/collie mix tore down the stairs to the kitchen of the Burrow and out through the open back door. Three young children followed quickly on her heels, laughing and screaming as they darted through the adults' legs and collided with each other as they ran through the door.

"ANDIE! CONTROL YOUR DOG!"

Andie Dickens and Molly Weasley laughed as Ron stumbled down the stairs, looking dazed and not a little annoyed.

"She's just excited Ron. Can you really blame her? Everyone's excited."

Ron grinned and came up to Andie to wrap his arms around her. "As they should be, I mean, what's not to be excited about? I convinced the woman I'm madly in love with to marry me. It's definitely reason to celebrate."

She laughed at him and kissed his freckled cheek as she ruffled his bright red hair. "Been practicing, Weasley?"

"I can't very well let you regret it, can I?" He smiled as he bent to kiss her softly on the lips.

"Oh, you two." Molly Weasley had tears in her eyes as she beamed at them. "It's good to have something to be happy about."

Ron nodded and hugged Andie tighter to him. The Weasley family had been through too much and lost too much and therefore, sought happiness at every possible opportunity. Family, friends and home meant more with each passing year, as the family expanded to include spouses and children. Molly Weasley was a happy matriarch over her six children and six grandchildren. The future promised more grandchildren and comfort as she and her husband of thirty-four years settled into middle age. 

The Sisters, as Andie had come to call them, were scattered throughout the kitchen, helping Molly prepare the large evening meal. Ron had been getting dressed so he could meet his brothers on the pitch when the dog and her followers had exploded into his bedroom. It had become a ritual at family gatherings that the women worked in the kitchen preparing the meal and the men worked at staying as far away from the kitchen as possible. At this moment, there were six women, and several of their babies, in the kitchen and he knew that both Ginny and Hermione would be arriving within the hour.

"Anyway, I'll see you soon," Ron said as he quickly released Andie back to the other women in the kitchen. "Fred and George are waiting on me."

Andie just grinned wickedly at him, undoubtedly understanding the reason for his hasty departure. Ron kissed his mother's cheek, and nodded at his sisters-in-law as he hurriedly went out the back door towards the Quidditch pitch.

His four brothers were awaiting him, on their broomsticks, at the edge of the old paddock. In recent years, they had cleaned it up and enlarged it to make room for a bigger Quidditch pitch. It was now about half the size as the pitch at Hogwarts, which was more than suitable for the Weasley men to play a pick-up match now and again.

Fatherhood definitely suited the oldest Weasley brothers. Charlie had begun working full time in Britain during Ron's final year of school. He had met his wife, Annabelle, shortly after Bill and Fleur's wedding and their son, Isaac, had turned four in May. Fleur had recently given birth to twin girls, Adelaide and Elise, and parenthood had forged a deeper bond between Bill and Charlie. The two families lived in Hogsmeade.

Fred and George were also fathers now, but seemed to take to it with a far different attitude than their older brothers. Indeed, they had not settled down much at all, but had rather taken up parenting as a great and fun adventure. Ron has personally seen Fred's wife, Angelina, and George's long-time girlfriend, Katie Bell, look on wearily as the twins invented some new game for their young toddlers, Sadie & Beatrice. Fred's son, Colin, was still far too young to partake in his father's antics, but Angelina seemed resigned to the fact that this would not last.

Ron jumped onto his broom and flew up to meet his brothers. Charlie would be playing seeker for both teams. Ron and Bill would alternate between chaser and keeper as Fred and George did the same. It had become their standard method of play over the years, especially after Harry left and Ginny moved to Paris. Fred grinned at his teammate as George released the snitch into the air. The tiny gold ball had been a gift from Harry right before he, Ron and Hermione had set out on their final adventure as a trio.

Fatherhood kept Charlie Weasley young, as evidenced by his flying. Fred and George shouted jokes across the pitch and made smart remarks as Bill missed an easy goal against George's keeping. Ron darted easily between his older brothers, loving the rush of wind in his ears and the feeling of his hair being pulled back wildly. He had no doubt that Andie would have a good laugh at him once he was on the ground again. His shoulder-length hair had a tendency to get pretty crazy after flying on a broomstick.

"Oy! Weasley, you look like shit up there!" A loud, female voice rang out through the pitch. All five brothers looked down as their sister rose into their air on her own broom.

"Who are you talking to, kid?" quipped Fred, grinning at his cheeky sister.

"All of you, of course. You're flying around up here like a bunch of old men! I'm pretty sure my hair grows faster than you can chase a Quaffle, Bill."

"Ouch, Gin." Ron was laughing as he flew closer to his sister. He grasped her hand in mid-air and grinned at her. "It's so good to see you, just the same! I see that Paris hasn't left you any less blunt, or mouthy," he added with a smirk.

"Of course not. Growing up with you lot was just practice for what I have to deal with everyday." Ginny worked as an assistant curator for a wizard's museum in Paris. All day long, she dealt with moody artists and even moodier artwork. A particularly annoying statue had been grating on her nerves for the last week – it was never in the same place twice.

A furiously fast match commenced as Ginny settled into the game. She played opposite Charlie's seeker and her brothers seemed to be flying much faster than they had been when she had first flown up. Ron laughed as they soared around each other, throwing more taunts and jabs as the game progressed. He was delighted to have his younger sister around, as her job left her little time for visiting.

"Ronald! You have a guest!" Mrs. Weasley's voice cut through their loud game, even though Ron couldn't immediately see where she was. As he slowed down and began to sink towards the ground, his mother came into view. She was walking briskly towards them and waving enthusiastically.

"Who's here, Mum?"

"You'll just have to come inside. Tea will be ready soon and I need help setting the table anyhow," answered Molly, looking at Fred and George as she added the last part.

The twins groaned as they followed behind Molly and Ron. Ginny, Charlie and Bill brought up the rear, Ginny talking excitedly about the gifts she had brought for her nieces and nephews.

As Ron approached the garden, he heard a familiar voice and quickly matched it to a bushy-haired female standing and talking to his father.

"Hermione?" 

The bushy-haired female turned, grinning widely. "Ron! Oh, it's so good to see you!"

Without a moment's pause, Ron was holding Hermione in his arms, threatening to hug the life out of her. She was laughing as she clutched his shoulders and as he set her down, he noticed that she brushed tears away from her eyes.

"Has it really been five years? You look so good, Ron. So much, well, older," Hermione finished, laughing slightly as she looked at him.

"Thanks, I think. You look great, Hermione. I'm so glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't miss this for anything, Ron."

"And this has to be Hermione, or else there's some unknown woman with her hands on my wizard." Andie stepped next to Ron and smiled at the both.

"You must be Andie," Hermione said, returning the smile and extending her hand. 

Andie merely laughed and pulled Hermione into another hug. "I can't just shake your hand. I've heard so much about you; it's as if I'd known you as long as this one has."

Hermione's reply was lost as there was a loud thump from behind Mrs. Weasley's rosebushes. Ron watched as the bushes shook violently and a body-less voice floated to them from the plants.

"Damn it, Ginny. Whoever heard of a Portkey throwing someone into shrubbery?"

"Um, hello?" ventured Andie.

A red-faced Harry jumped up from the offending rose bush to face a rather large group of people staring at him. Right in the center of the whole group, Ron and Hermione were simply gaping at him.

He pulled a twig from his messy hair and stepped from the flowerbed, brushing dirt from his robes. He looked right at Hermione and Ron before raising his hand.

"Hi."

* * *


	2. Chapter II

**A Long Way from Home**

**Summary**: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated "R" for strong language and some adult material. Contains H/Hr, Ron/OC and eventually, D/G.

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter II**

_July 17, 2003_

"Hi." 

It was really a very simple greeting, but Hermione felt as if someone had hit her across the face with a cauldron- to say she was shocked would be an understatement. Her best friend for half her life stood only ten feet away from her, looking slightly disheveled after his crash landing. She hadn't laid eyes on him for over five years and for some silly reason, she assumed he'd look exactly the same as he always had: skinny, even scrawny and definitely quite geeky. But the person that stood before her was no longer a boy, but most definitely a man. He was still thin, but his shoulders were broad and there was an air about him that betrayed a great deal of inner strength. Right now, however, his shoulders were slightly sagged, as if he was very tired and carried a heavy load on his back.

"Harry?" Hermione found that she didn't trust her voice to not betray her utter shock at seeing him standing there.

"Hermione, Ron. It's well, I should say that it's good to see you, but it's really just surreal." Harry grinned now, stepping towards both of them so that they were only a few feet apart. They stood awkwardly, none sure what an appropriate greeting was at this juncture. Finally, Hermione let out a laugh and threw herself against Harry, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Harry, I can't believe you came."

"Neither can I, really," he admitted, chuckling. "I'd really made up my mind that I wasn't going to come, but Ginny wrote me this letter and well, I had to be here."

Hermione pulled back and looked at him happily as Ron pulled Harry into a hug as well, albeit with far less exuberance than she had demonstrated. They were interrupted as news of Harry's arrival spread throughout the Weasley household. Shortly enough, the garden was filled with family as everyone crowded around the trio. Hermione and Harry were introduced to each of the children, whom they had known only by name and the myriad photos owled regularly. Isaac, being the oldest of the group, seemed very serious about finally meeting them.

"Aunt Hermione?"

"Yes?" She smiled down at the strawberry blonde boy standing in front of her.

"My dragon broke." 

Momentary confusion set in before Hermione realized he was talking about the birthday gift she had sent him in April. She laughed and kneeled down so that she was eye-level with him.

"Well it was just an accident, wasn't it?"

Isaac nodded sadly.

"It'll be alright then. Maybe you'll get a new one for Christmas. St. Nick is usually pretty good about things like that," Hermione winked at Charlie as Isaac brightened up considerably.

"Well, is anyone hungry?" Molly Weasley asked, beaming at the group assembled in her garden. The chattering stopped as soon as she'd spoken and it was with great gusto that everyone went into the house, ready to attack the meal the Weasley women had laid out for them.

As usual, the large meal was full of boisterous conversation and laughter. The twins talked a great deal about new jokes for their company, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Bill and Charlie traded stories about newborn babies while Ron and Andie talked about their honeymoon plans. Hermione found herself overwhelmed by all the people and noise and one glance at Harry saw that he was feeling the same way. She smiled weakly at him as Mr. Weasley rose from the head seat and looked down at all of them. He still commanded silence and respect from everyone at the table and conversation quickly died down as they turned their focus to him.

"Tonight is a very special night, indeed," he began, smiling jovially at them, "for it is the eve of my son's wedding and because we are so fortunate to have old friends join us after so long apart. I am truly thankful to be here, surrounded by my family. Each day is a blessing and I'm reminded of that when I look at all of you. We've come so far and been through so much – it's simply wonderful that we're all here and so happy. I'd like to propose a toast tonight, to the happy couple. To Ron and Andie!"

"To Ron and Andie!" Everyone at the table echoed, clinking glasses.

It wasn't long after the toast that dessert was passed around and following that, the large group separated, with many of the Weasley women taking their children up to bed. Harry and Hermione found themselves being drawn into the garden with Ron and Andie.

"Ron, you must tell us how you met," Hermione said, grinning at her red-headed best friend over the rim of a wine glass.

Harry nodded enthusiastically, "I definitely want to hear Andie's side of this as well. I mean, what happened? Did you lose a bet?"

Hermione laughed and slapped Harry's arm, relishing the feeling of having him, and Ron, so close again. She took a sip of her wine and tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as Harry grinned widely at her.

Andie was laughing as well and shaking her head. "Well, of course I lost a bet. Who knew the Cannons were going to beat the Harpies? That's never happened before."

Ron scoffed. "Oh, you lot think you're right funny. I see how it's going to be. Same as it's always been: everyone against Ron, except now my wife has joined the fun!"

Andie laughed and patted Ron's shoulder gently. "There, there, Ron. It won't always be just us against you. Someday, we'll have children and they'll join right in with us. The more, the merrier, right?"

Hermione and Harry both laughed again as Ron's face turned red. He stuck his tongue out at Andie (which only caused more laugher) before crossing his arms over his chest and staring out into the garden.

Andie tried to contain a smile as she looked at Harry and Hermione again. "Well, in all seriousness then, Ron and I met at Hogwarts, at the start of autumn term. On the first day of flying for the first years, actually - one of his students flew a broom through the open window of my classroom."

Harry whooped. "That's brilliant! Was it on purpose?"

"It bloody well wasn't," Ron replied, smiling again as he wrapped an arm around Andie's shoulders.

"I guess you could say we've been inseparable since then," Andie said as she kissed Ron's cheek.

"You teach Defense against the Dark Arts, right?" Hermione asked.

Andie shook her head. "Transfiguration, actually. I took the DaDA position the year after Hogwarts reopened but Minerva had full-time headmistress duties to attend to once enrollment was full again and she offered me her post."

"Ah, Ron didn't mention what you taught and Minerva had talked about you once immediately after you were hired, so I guess I just assumed…but that's just wonderful! Transfiguration was always my favorite subject."

"Transfiguration was always my favorite subject."

Harry snorted. "Every subject was your favorite, Hermione, except divination."

"Well, that's not true at all. Divination isn't even a real subject."

It was Andie's turn to snort. She swallowed a gulp of wine and began laughing. "My third years utterly hate their new divination teacher. Trelawney looks like the genuine article compared to Sully Biffmore. I swear, I have no idea how he even got that job."

"What's the wedding to be like? Are you going to have a lot of guests?" Hermione asked, changing the subject. She tried not to let on that she hoped it would be a small affair.

"It'll be small – only fifty or so people. The men are changing the pitch over tomorrow to host the whole thing and it'll start at five. We leave on honeymoon the morning after."

Hermione smiled, feeling content at just being in the Weasleys' garden again. "Who's officiating?"

Ron lit up at this. "Dad, of course. I couldn't imagine anyone else doing it."

"That's about right, I think. It sounds like it'll be very nice." Harry smiled across at Ron and Andie, who were still cuddled together. They chattered for awhile longer, about jobs and just about any other neutral topic that could be covered. It was five minutes until midnight when Ginny appeared.

"I hate to break this up, everyone, but it's time for the bride to disappear." She grinned at Andie, who was now beaming.

"What do you mean, disappear?" Ron asked, nonplussed.

"Well, you can't see her, you git. Not until the ceremony tomorrow."

"But that's seventeen hours from now!"

Andie smiled and leaned down to whisper something in Ron's ear. Whatever it was caused him to brighten immediately and he pulled her face down to his to kiss her softly on the lips. "Love you, Andie."

"I love you too, Ron. See you tomorrow."

Ron nodded. "Tomorrow," he paused and kissed her fingers. "I can't believe it's all tomorrow."

Andie's eyes teared up at this and she kissed his cheek softly before heading into the house. Hermione's eyes followed her in and there was a strange pang in her chest. It wasn't jealously over what had just transpired. Not exactly, anyway. She loved Ron, always, as one of her very best friends but there was nothing romantic between them any longer. She contemplated her own mind for a minute before realizing that she was simply jealous over what they had. Her life over the last five years suddenly felt quite empty. Not just of love, but of everything. There had been work, to be sure, but what else?

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as Ginny took over Andie's old spot. She was extremely elegant looking, even in a long sleeved shirt and jeans. Her bright red hair had darkened considerably as she'd grown up and now hung in long, auburn curls down her back. She had the worldliness of someone who'd left home and hadn't looked back, but rather had taken up her new life with gusto. She smiled at everyone before centering her attention on Hermione.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow, Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged. "Um, not really. I thought I might help everyone set up."

"Oh, but you mustn't. That's wizard's work! You have to join us girls tomorrow."

Hermione was suddenly apprehensive. "What are you doing?"

"Well, we have a reservation for brunch tomorrow in London. After that, there'll be a bit of shopping and then we're off to the spa. We'll have lunch there and then return here to get ready for the wedding."

"But I'm not in the wedding."

"It doesn't matter. I've employed a small army of stylists and we can squeeze you in. You'll look amazing, I promise."

Hermione looked at Ginny doubtfully. She had hoped tomorrow would be a quiet day. Even though there were only to be fifty or so guests, she suspected she was feeling a bit anxious nonetheless. She'd seen no more than three people that she knew very well over the past five years and if the dinner just a few hours ago was any indication, fifty people was an enormous number. 

"Hermione, you should go," said Harry gently, looking right into her eyes. "It'll do you some good to get out with girls."

Hermione looked at Harry carefully before turning to Ginny and nodding slowly. "I'll go."

"You'll have a wonderful time, I promise. If you're the least bit nervous, there will be plenty of mimosas at brunch tomorrow." Ginny grinned at her wickedly before standing up. "It's late, all. I think I'll turn in myself."

Ron nodded. "I'm coming right after you. Tomorrow is a busy day." He leaned down to kiss Hermione's cheek and pat Harry on the shoulder before heading into the house. "Don't stay up too late, you two! Remember, you're back among the living now, can't be night owls!" He called over his shoulder as the door closed behind him and Ginny.

Hermione and Harry were left alone in the warm summer evening. She turned slowly to look at her best friend, who was staring at the ground around his feet. His black hair was longer and he was considerably taller than the last time she'd seen him. It was enough that she felt remarkably small just sitting next to him. She looked at his profile a minute before letting her gaze travel down his arms and to his hand. His fingers were as long and graceful as they had ever been. Those fingers were made to wield a wand. Inexplicably, Hermione wanted to bring his fingers to her lips.

"Hermione?"

He was now looking at her as she stared at his hand, so very close to hers. She felt her cheeks burning as she dragged her eyes to meet his and thanked Merlin for the darkness.

"Sorry, I must have spaced there for a minute."

Harry chuckled. "I think I know what you mean. I just – I just can't believe we're here. After all this time, I swear to you that Mrs. Weasley's lemon tart tasted just the same as it did ten years ago. This garden even looks the same. I'd bet a thousand galleons right now that the rustling noise coming from behind that bush right there is a garden gnome, just like when I was twelve. Has any time really passed at all?" He blinked momentarily, suddenly aware that he had just said that all out loud. 

Hermione just nodded and touched his hand gently. Harry immediately wrapped his fingers around hers. "I know. It was almost too easy, wasn't it? Seeing everyone again?"

Harry seemed relieved not to be alone in his thoughts. "I never imagined I could just show up here again. Everything is just so…normal. It makes sense, in a way, that everything is ok here. This place isn't why I left. It's everything out there, beyond those walls that make me want to hide again."

"Where have you been, Harry?"

"In the States, North Carolina, actually. My house is right on the beach and it's so, so quiet there."

"My cottage is quiet too. There's this really great bay window in the parlor, with a window seat. My bookshelves are along the whole front wall. I feel like I've spent half a lifetime in that window."

"Where is it? Your cottage, I mean?"

"Scotland. Nobody bothers me there."

Harry nodded and sighed softly before looking out over Mrs. Weasley's garden. He stared ahead for a few minutes before looking directly at Hermione again.

"Are you sorry you left, Hermione?"

Hermione just looked at Harry, unsure of the answer she should give him. Finally, she sighed too. "I'm not sure. I think I needed to. There was, well, there was just too much, wasn't there?"

Harry nodded and then instantly shook his head. "Listen, this isn't why we came, not to talk through all this. We need to enjoy this now. Everything else can wait, can't it?"

Suddenly, Harry looked like that little boy on the train from so many years ago. Hermione nodded, almost imperceptibly. "You're right of course. It can all wait."

"Maybe, after this is over, we can spend some time together, catching up? Just us."

"Well, of course we can. After all, we're not the ones sailing off on some gorgeous honeymoon in the Caribbean."

Harry looked oddly at her then. "Right you are. Well then, I think I'm off to bed. And you?"

"Bed sounds so nice right now." Harry stood up and pulled Hermione after him, their hands lingering together a few moments. He gently kissed her forehead as he wrapped her in a hug.

"Goodnight then, Hermione."

"Goodnight Harry."

He walked into the house and she trailed behind after extinguishing the soft candles that had been burning since their small group had began talking. Slowly, she trudged up the stairs feeling as if the entire day had been weeks long, but she realized as she crawled in to bed, that maybe that wasn't necessarily a bad feeling.

_July 18, 2003_

"Damn it, George! You know full well that is not how you wear your tie!" Ron sputtered as his brother came waltzing into the bedroom on the fourth floor. Most of the Weasley men were crammed into Ron's old bedroom, getting ready for the ceremony that began in just thirty minutes. George Weasley was wearing the tie for his dress robes in his hair like a ribbon. He had settled the bow just over his right ear and had brushed his red hair back carefully.

"Well, why not?"

"Because it looks bloody stupid!" Ron answered, glaring.

"Well, I rather like it. It makes him stand out – there's just something so…elegant about it," Fred said, grinning wickedly at Ron.

George bowed, with great panache, to his twin brother. "Thank you, good sir. I knew that you would tell the truth as it's obvious that young Ron here is just wildly jealous. That Weasley charm we inherited obviously did not extend to the end of the line." 

It was instantly difficult to decide which was more red – Ron's hair or his face. Luckily, Arthur wandered into the room at the moment, straightening his own tie.

"Love your tie, George. Looks a lot like the little pink bow that Fleur put in Addy's hair," he said absentmindly as he crossed the room to Ron.

George quickly snatched the tie from his hair and began tying it in its proper place.

"Well, son, are you ready?" Arthur had a hand on each of Ron's shoulders and was absolutely beaming.

Ron nodded, his father's tone settling him almost instantly.

"Then we need to get this show on the road. Most of the guests have arrived."

Ron stood once more in front of a long mirror situated next to his old bed. He straightened his tie, smoothed his hair down, tugged on the sleeves of his robe, shook his shoulders slightly, shifted from one foot to the other, turned to his left side and then to his right and finally reached up once more to straighten his tie when Charlie grabbed his hand.

"Come on little brother." With a typical Weasley grin, Charlie patted Ron on the shoulder and gently pressed him towards the door. In a single file line beginning with Ron and ending with Arthur, three generations of Weasley men started out of the room and down the stairs. Harry met them on the landing for the third floor and smiled at Ron, who suddenly felt incredibly nervous.

Fred, George and Harry would be standing with Ron. Charlie, who had given up his role in the wedding party to Harry, and Bill, would act as ushers and young Isaac would be the ring bearer. Arthur would be leading the ceremony. They marched quietly down the stairs and were immediately drawn into the living room by Molly. She was positively glowing in a cream colored set of dress robes. Andie's mother, Diana, had stepped from the kitchen, where the ladies were assembled, to help Molly with any finishing touches for the men. Molly went to each of them and straightened their boutonnières, whispering a spell that would keep each flower fresh and Diana followed after, adding a charm that would prevent their robes from wrinkling and had the added bonus of keeping them cool. Molly stopped at Ron, with tears in her eyes. She kissed him on the cheek and quickly wiped her face.

"Oh, won't you just look at the whole lot of you? All of my favorite wizards. Well, nearly." This last statement brought another round of tears from Molly and a palpable sadness from the group of men standing in front of her. Ron, thankful for the charms on his robes, pulled her into a bear hug.

"It's ok, Mum. Percy's here you know – he can see us and he's happy to know that we're all a family again," Molly Weasley's youngest son whispered in her ear. She smiled softly and kissed him again before taking a step back and was suddenly all business once more.

"Well, out with you then. Ronald, you and your groomsmen will move to the archway. I want you ready to go as Bill and Charlie begin to bring the guests round. Isaac, you'll stay here with Gram and Arthur, if you could check on the wards once more –"

"Absolutely, my dear," Arthur smiled at his wife of thirty-four years with all the love he had felt on the day he married her. "It's all taken care of."

Molly grinned as one more tear rolled down her cheek. She touched Ron gently on the cheek and retreated to the kitchen with Andie's mum.

"Well, sirs, shall we?" Arthur looked at his sons and smiled warmly. They all nodded and he led the way into the garden, pointing to where each group should go.

Charlie and Bill started to the front of the house, where the guests had gathered amongst good food and comfortable chairs, as Ron and his groomsmen moved up the long, white aisle towards an archway situated amongst Molly's rosebushes. There were white chairs settled on each side of the aisle. Each end chair was adorned with lilies-of-the valley, violet roses and apple blossoms. Andie had explained each flower's magical meanings, which Ron had promptly forgotten. He thought it was a miracle that he even remembered what they were called, rather than merely identifying them as those bell-looking things, the flowers that they sold in February and the little pink-looking bits that also bloomed everywhere in his mother's garden. The arch trellis was covered in the same flowers. Ron was beginning to seriously doubt the wisdom that said it was good to cover _every square inch_ in little dead flowers that people might very well be allergic to.

Harry prodded Ron gently towards the archway. He knew his part very well – they had rehearsed where everyone was supposed to stand and how they were supposed to hold their shoulders and what sort of look they were supposed to have on their faces. As a fresh bunch of jitters worked its way through Ron's body, he began to rethink this whole wedding thing. The American Muggle idea of getting married by someone dressed up like a dead pop star in a white jumpsuit at three a.m. was suddenly immensely appealing.

The guests, composed primarily of family and very close friends, were quickly seated. Hermione was seated next to Ron's mum and dad in the front row and he vaguely noted that she looked pretty in the pale blue dress she was wearing. He nudged Harry gently as Charlie led Hermione to her seat and Harry only nodded.

It felt like at least a hundred years since they'd been forced to stand up under this silly flower arch. Ron shifted nervously from foot to foot and began a very similar routine to that which had been performed in front of the mirror earlier. Casually, Harry kicked his foot against Ron's and they both stood still as music from a small quartet to the left started up and Arthur appeared in the center of the archway, seemingly from nowhere.

Colin and Sadie were starting up the aisle, both dressed in dress robes that mimicked the bride and groom. Colin had a very serious look on his face and was staring straight at the ground. Sadie, however, was skipping slightly ahead of him, clutching a small basket full of the purple rose petals. She seemed to have forgotten Ginny's edict that she was to scatter the petals and was simply carrying them under her arm like she would a bunch of school books. Colin looked at her, rolled his eyes and tossed the satin pillow over his shoulder like a backpack.

Ginny followed in a sage colored set of robes and she cleared her throat loud enough that Sadie heard and turned. Blushing slightly, the toddler unceremoniously dumped the petals into a pile at the end of the aisle and moved to stand over by her mother's chair. Ron noticed Ginny roll her eyes and it took his entire concentration to prevent himself from laughing. Andie's sister, Janie, and her best friend, Emma, followed shortly after Ginny and they quickly took their places on the opposite side of the trellis. Shortly thereafter, the music changed to the wedding march and there was a large rustling noise as the entire congregation stood to watch the bride walk down the aisle. 

Andromeda Dickens was very regal in snow white dress robes. Her shoulders were bared and a fitted bodice flowed into a full skirt. The material was soft and whimsical and her deep, chestnut colored hair was covered by a silky veil that covered both her head and face. In her hands, she held a simple bouquet of violet roses. Even under the veil, it was obvious to all that she was both smiling and crying. Her father held her hand tucked against his arm as he walked her up the aisle.

In no time at all, Ron and Andie were hand in hand, standing in front of Arthur and grinning as if they had some huge secret. In Ron's memory, the ceremony was really a lot of flowery words, some wand waving and finally, a big kiss at the end, which was met with great applause. Before he knew what was happening, he and Andie were moving down the aisle, arm in arm, and each with a band of shimmering gold on their left ring fingers. He was married, without a doubt. The witch on his arm and the ring on his finger proved it and Ron wasn't sure if he'd ever been happier in his entire life.

Soon enough, they were in the kitchen, grabbing and kissing at each other, laughing around each kiss. The guests were being moved around to the side garden as Harry and the twins set up the tables and dance floor for the reception. The rest of the wedding party joined them quickly and a photographer friend of Ginny's was snapping candid shots of the whole group. Setup for the reception was completed speedily and Harry and the twins wandered into the kitchen, followed by Hermione.

Ron pulled Andie towards Harry and Hermione and pulled them all into a group hug. Everyone was laughing and the girls were crying and once again, Ron thought that he had probably never been happier in his whole life.

"Oh, Ron, that was beautiful. I'm so happy for you," gushed Hermione. Her eyes had that shrink-wrapped look that Ron had seen in Muggle movies.

Before he could respond, however, the photographer was grabbing people, pushing them to the pre-determined photo spot, and arranging them in groups. After approximately fourteen thousand pictures (_It had to be at least that many_, Ron thought), the photographer was asking the bride and groom if there were any additional shots that needed to be taken. 

"Well, I know two that I'd like," Andie supplied. "There needs to be one, right over here, actually, of myself, Ron, and his two best friends here. After that, I want one of just the three of them."

"Andie? Wh-"

Andie cut him off with a kiss. "Don't worry about it, Ron. It's my wedding day, after all, and you have to do whatever I say." She grinned innocently at him and flounced towards the fireplace, where she had directed the first photo be taken.

Shrugging, the trio followed her and lined up for the photos.

Harry was suddenly struck with the thought that he felt very grown-up. Sure, he had spent the last few years working with the Order to take out a lot of dark wizards in the United States and had lived on his own the entire time. He was no longer in school and the Muggle driver license said that he was twenty-two years old; he was definitely an adult by all acceptable standards of measurement, but there was something about this night that made him finally feel like an adult.

After all, his best friend had just gotten married. Married. It was a distinct reminder that Ron was no longer that little boy on the train, trying to turn his pet rat yellow. A handful of old school friends and plenty of teachers were at the wedding and they were all older as well. Dean Thomas also had a wife, an American witch named Heather. Neville Longbottom had married Luna Lovegood three years back and they had a baby with them. _A baby._ Some of his old professors had retired and there were a group of Ron and Andie's friends that had taken over those positions at the wedding as well. Harry had absolutely no idea who any of them were and it was this thought that made him realize how much he'd left behind. 

"Harry? Are you ok?" Hermione took one of the empty seats at his table and looked at him carefully. She had no doubt caught the somewhat stricken look on his face.

"Yeah, I guess I'm okay. Just thinking about everyone here and how different they all are. I mean, did you see that Neville is a dad? The kid who lost his pet toad every two or three days is a _father_, Hermione."

"Well, I'm sure it's much harder to lose a baby than a toad, Harry. They don't move as quickly," Hermione answered with a completely straight face.

He chuckled softly before his face was serious again. "I mean it though. This is all so indescribable. We're all adults."

"Well, of course we are Harry. After everything that happened, we weren't really given a choice were we? There wasn't any other option but to grow up." 

"You're right." Harry shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. He then smiled broadly and looked at Hermione. "We said now wasn't the time for all this, was it? Let's dance then, shall we?"

Hermione just grinned in return as she stood up and allowed Harry to lead her out onto the dance floor. It wasn't long before they were dancing comfortably to the jazz music that was coming from a band perched on a small stage next to the dance floor. 

There had been several toasts throughout the evening and the champagne and butterbeer had been flowing since dinner. Harry realized he was feeling a bit light-headed as he held Hermione, swaying with her to a slower song that had just started up. His hands were resting on her back and he felt the cool silkiness of her dress robes beneath his fingers. She had charmed her hair into tight curls that fell to mid back and it took every ounce of his being to not run his fingers through them. Oh yes, everyone at the wedding was very adult indeed.

The dance ended and everyone applauded as George Weasley stepped up to the mike. "On behalf of the bride and groom, I'd like to thank everyone for being here tonight. If you would please follow the wedding party out front, Ron and Andie are about to depart."

Harry and Hermione set off with the rest of the guests towards the lane. Once there, they saw that Ron and Andie were tucked safely inside a white carriage, which was being pulled by two chestnut-colored, winged horses. The guests began applauding and cheering as Ron waved his wand and the horses set off into the air. The bride and groom looked down on all of their guests, smiling and waving, as they disappeared into the night.

Turning to Hermione, Harry asked, "Now what?"

"I'm not sure. Are you going back to North Carolina?"

"I don't think I want to. What about you? Back to Scotland?"

"Well, I've got a lot of work to do but you could come stay with me there for awhile, if you'd like. I've got a spare bedroom," Hermione said, not feeling the least hesitant in giving up her solitary lifestyle. The idea of her best friend coming to stay with her, even for awhile, was infinitely pleasing.

Harry just nodded. "That sounds like a plan, Miss Granger."

* * *

Author's Note:

In my previous chapter, I forget to say thanks to my beta reader, Neil! Also, thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter I. After this chapter, postings will probably occur every other week. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter III

**A Long Way from Home**

**Summary**: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated "R" for strong language and some adult material. Contains H/Hr, Ron/OC and eventually, D/G.

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter III**

_July 28, 2003_

_Hermione was ensconced in darkness. There was a loud, demonic cackle somewhere to her left and she was vaguely aware of pounding footsteps coming closer and closer to her. She did not have her wand, so she began running in the opposite direction. Her fingers sought the wall next to her: it was hard and cold against her hand and the rough stone was tearing the skin away from her fingertips. She urged her legs to move faster as the cackling laughter was joined by terrifying screaming. Abruptly, the hallway she was moving through turned a corner and her shoulder smashed against the wall as she followed it.. There was a flash of red light and she saw a snake-like face loom up in front of her. Screaming, she turned and ran back the way she had come. _

Another corner, another flash of light. This time, Harry was writhing in pain on the ground. There was a hooded figure looming over him and Harry turned his head up to look at her. His green eyes were electric looking and he mouthed one word to her, "Run!"

She obeyed, pushing further into the stone labyrinth. Finally, she saw a glow of green light ahead of her and she moved towards it, slowing to a walk as the laughing and screaming died down. There was a body on the floor, its limbs all akimbo. She shuffled over silently, as she had lost the cover of darkness upon entering this room. That same green light bathed the entire space and she felt her skin prickle. Bending down she took in the lifeless body, one whose face and eyes she had known all her life, and which bore a striking resemblance to her own. The scientific thoughts of inspection left her mind quickly. She screamed and screamed, the noise echoing in the stone chamber and in her own ears, as a flash of green light brightened everything around her.

Hermione was barely able to muffle her cry as she jolted awake. That particular nightmare was old and almost as familiar as her skin. She knew it well, having had dreamt it countless times over the last five years. She had evaluated it scientifically. She had written it down, judged every second of it. Two years ago, she had gone so far as to consult a dream divination therapist about it. The woman had merely looked horrified, offering no advice, and the experience had only further cemented in Hermione's mind that the whole of divination was merely crackpot theories and scare tactics. 

Shuddering, Hermione left her mind travel along the scientific breakdown of her dream. She was freezing cold and hugged her arms around herself to stop the shivering. Scientific breakdown aside, the dream was haunting and too familiar for her comfort. She felt tears come to her eyes after a few moments as she wondered if she would see her father, dead like that on the floor for the rest of her life. The dream's stone corridors were reminiscent of the stone castle of a Death Eater, where Hermione and Ron had fought along side Harry to destroy Lucius Malfoy. It had been earlier that same night that Hermione had found her father, dead, in the kitchen of her parents' house in London. Her mother had been blessedly absent when Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange broke into the house and tortured and killed her father. Fresh, hot tears sprang to Hermione's eyes as she further reflected on that night. Anger had overridden sadness and she had accompanied Ron and Harry to the castle. They had met with Bellatrix Lestrange and two other Death Eaters. Hermione and Harry stunned and bound the other two as Bellatrix seemed to focus her energy on Ron. He had kept his spells fairly simple, stunners and light hexes, but she had admitted to him as they fought that she had killed Percy Weasley. Ron had cursed her violently and her body had been thrown back against a wall, cracking her skull and killing her. He had fallen right after his spell had hit her, having sustained several nasty hexes in their duel. After helping Ron Apparate to safety, Harry and Hermione had pressed forward to find Lucius Malfoy. 

Hermione had been taken down by another Death Eater in the castle. She had blacked out, but McGonagall told her later that Harry had taken care of the Death Eater, and finally, had destroyed Malfoy. It was one of her biggest regrets: she had never faced down the man who had killed her father.

Deep, shuddering sobs ripped through her chest and she fought to keep quiet so as not to wake up Harry. The whole thing had been her third nightmare this week, but prior to that, she hadn't had any for six months. The memories it brought to her mind were as fresh as if they had happened only yesterday. Curling in on herself as she laid down once more, Hermione willed the tears to stop and finally, fell once more into a fitful sleep.

The morning dawned bright and warm. Hermione had eventually gotten out of bed to take a light sleeping potion that she kept stocked for such occasions and had rested well into late morning. Harry was moving around in the cottage, she could hear his footsteps and the sound of pans moving against each other. Guessing that perhaps he had slept late as well, she pulled herself out of bed and went into the hall bath. She turned the shower on and then stood looking at her face in the mirror.

There were circles under her eyes, but they weren't as bad as she thought they might be. Sighing, Hermione began the long ritual of dental hygiene she had developed as a young girl before finally getting under the hot spray.

The nightmare would not leave her mind. She saw Harry in pain again and the image of her father was burned into her eyelids. A salty tear ran slowly down her cheek, mingling with the water from the showerhead. Hermione refused to indulge another cry. She wiped the tear away angrily and reached to turn the water temperature higher. Gasping as the hot water temporarily scorched her skin, she took up her bar of soap and began washing the nightmare away.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione called, trying to keep her voice bright. The long, hot shower had settled her nerves considerably and the smell of bacon and sausages lifted her spirits even further.

"Good morning." Harry's head appeared around the corner of the kitchen. His smile instantly faded away and he looked at her seriously. "Are you ok?"

Hermione was momentarily stunned that he'd seen what she'd tried so hard to wash away. She shook it off and smiled at him, waving her hand as if to brush his comment off. "Bad dream, but I'm fine now. Don't worry about it."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked as she walked into the kitchen.

Shaking her head, Hermione looked into the pots and pans, she grinned. "You made a full breakfast! Oh, Harry, I haven't had a full breakfast since Hogwarts."

Harry blushed. "I was famished for some reason this morning, so I used that owl delivery service from town. Everything arrived a bit ago."

"I love that here. I can't stand going to the market... Oh! Tomatoes, mushrooms, beans, you really made everything. My mum always hated beans but my dad and I could both live on beans on toast."

Harry laughed. "I used to have to make this all time when I was a kid. Dudley always ate all of the bacon and sausage, but he didn't like beans either."

Hermione began to set the table as Harry talked about meeting Rupert Kingsley the day before. "He rode in the broom race in Sweden sixty years ago, you know." "Oh, I've heard that story at least a dozen times. The threat of Grindelwald was over everyone, and it was considered heroic that year to even brave the distance, not to mention that there was quite the nasty snowstorm. 'Course, I don't care anything about flying, so hearing it just the once would have been enough."

"Bullocks," Harry said, laughing, "I could listen to him talk about flying all day." 

Hermione carried the last of the breakfast dishes to the table, practically drooling over the sheer amount of food. She had grown to love cooking, but usually only ever made food for herself. The last week had seen her adjusting to having someone else in the house and whenever Harry complimented her cooking, she found herself feeling absurdly pleased.

"So what have you got planned for today?" Harry asked, once they had both managed to fill their plates.

Hermione swallowed a bite of the heavenly sausage before she answered. "I've got research to do today. I've spent entirely too much time over the last few days letting you distract me," she teased.

Harry looked hurt. "Surely, a bunch of books isn't better than your very best friend in the whole world?"

"Well, there's this particularly interesting theory I'm working on at the moment…" Harry threw a bit of toast at her as he laughed.

"That's alright, I suppose. I've got my own research to do if you wouldn't mind me looking through your books?"

Hermione gasped mockingly. "Surely not! Harry Potter has never willingly researched anything in his life."

He replied with his own smart remark and Hermione merely laughed at him before taking another mouthful of fried eggs. She had come to enjoy the easy humor that they managed; the first few days had been awkward. Even after the fun they'd had at Ron's wedding, both were unsure of how to act one-on-one, in daily life. Hermione had been slightly aggravated at having someone around, disturbing her routine, and she was bothered by the memories his nearness evoked. There had been the nightmares and frequent flashbacks of the events leading up to that final night against Malfoy and Bellatrix. She had left for Scotland only three days later. After the initial month or so of contact that the trio had kept up, they had lost touch with each other. There were Christmas cards and gifts every year, birthday presents and notes to the Weasley family, but Hermione had mostly kept to herself.

Finally, when Hermione thought she was probably going to have to ask Harry to leave, just from the shear nervousness she felt at having him around, he had brought home food and a couple bottles of wine, promising to make her a thank-you dinner for having put up with him for a whole week. The homemade pasta sauce had been utterly divine and the soft garlic bread had reminded her of food from Hogwarts. Harry had gone clear to London for the wine, and she appreciated that he'd gone so far just for her. She'd had far more than was wise, however, and they had ended up playing Exploding Snap. It was like being thirteen again, and Hermione was finally happy to have him in her home. Since that night, laughter had been easier and they had talked about a great deal. They explored the village and the outlying countryside. One of the older witches had told them old ghost stories about the castle ruins a few miles away and they told a few of their own stories from the Hogwarts ghosts.

"I'm full," Harry announced. He had pushed his plate back and was looking at her thoughtfully.

"I am too, Harry. Merlin, that was so good though. Thank you for making me breakfast."

"It's nothing. I felt like I hadn't had a proper meal in ages before I came here. It's just good to have someone to enjoy it with."

"Indeed. Are you ready to work then? We've got a later start than I'd like." This was an understatement. Hermione usually rose at 6a.m. to begin her day, but they hadn't even started breakfast until after 10:30.

In response, Harry flicked his wand to start the dishes cleaning themselves and followed her into the living room. It was easily her favorite part of the cottage. Three of its walls were filled floor to ceiling with books and the furniture was all grouped in the middle. There was no television, but the fourth wall held doors to the kitchen and back hall and a large worktable, which had been moved out of the spare room to make room for Harry. There were books stacked around in corners and over the surface of her desk. Stacks and rolls of parchments covered the available workspace. Here and there, white plaster walls peaked behind the bookcases and underfoot, there were aged pine floors and lots of throw rugs scattered around.

"Is there something you need my help with?" Hermione asked.

"If you could point me in the general direction of your magical theory books, I'll –"

"Well, actually, they're almost all magical theory books. The books on the window wall cover just about everything from magical history to current Muggle studies curriculum. Um, over there, is all light magical theory and the wall behind you is entirely dark magic."

"Entirely?"

"It's half our history. And half the battle. You ought to know better than anyone that you can't accomplish anything in this fight without understanding the other side." She herself knew this all too well, as did Harry and Ron. They had studied dark magic their seventh year, not just how to defend against it, but how to use it, for only then could they defeat it.

Harry just nodded and moved towards that wall. Once she felt that he would find whatever it was he needed, she settled into her desk and began looking through all the rolls of parchment.

_As if on cue, there was a loud clap of thunder. Harry, Hermione and Ron had just landed in a graveyard, but it was not the same graveyard that Voldemort had been resurrected in almost three years prior. A Portkey had brought them to this place, after the Death Eaters had attacked Hogwarts, and it was the last place they all expected to be. Hermione could see the gravestone that marked where Harry's parents had been buried. It was less than ten feet away._

Before the trio could even get their bearings, rain began to pour down from the sky, obscuring their vision. A loud cracking noise and the smell of burning wood pulled their attention to the scene behind them. Lightening had struck not fifty feet from where they stood and Hermione could still feel an electric charge in their air. Beyond the tree that had fallen stood a group of hooded figures that seemed to have no knowledge of their arrival. Hermione felt the back of her neck begin to tingle and she felt goose bumps spring up on her arms. They had prepared for this all year long, but she was still terrified.

Ron had grasped her hand tightly as they moved between tombstones to find a better hiding space. From their new vantage point, they were able to discern the number of hooded figures: seven in all. Hermione figured that one of them had to be Voldemort, as he had not showed up at the castle with the other Death Eaters. Professor Snape had slipped the Portkey to Harry, warning him that all three of them needed to use it, and that it would activate just before midnight. He had not told them where it would take them or what would happen, but it was a testament to how much he helped them over the past year that they used it.

"I believe that we are once again given the dubious honor of having guests at our proceedings," a loud voice rang out through the graveyard. Hermione was positive in that moment that it was the voice of death.

There was a rushing, swirling wind and Harry, Hermione and Ron found themselves dumped unceremoniously at the feet of the seven cloaked figures. Scrambling to get up, they moved several feet back from the group, wands at the ready.

"Why, Harry, I see you've bought friends. There are ten of us here, now, far too many for what I plan to do on this night."

"Yes," Harry had agreed, boldly. "By my reckoning, there are seven extra."

Hermione was too terrified to speak, even if there had been anything she had wanted to say. Witty bantering with devil-incarnates was admittedly not her specialty. Ron had moved away from her so that they now flanked Harry. She tightened her grip on her wand, trying to settle herself down and remember their purpose. Her mind careened from thought to thought, spell to spell, as everything she'd studied over the past year seemed to flee her mind.

There was more evil cackling and Hermione watched as Voldemort rose into the air, high over the heads of his Death Eaters. There was a flash of light and Hermione felt pain rip through her entire body. It was her whole being – she had never known anything before or since. Her world turned black and she felt as if she was spinning wildly. Someone was screaming her name, she'd been here before. This pain, this not knowing, she did know what this was. She knew how to escape this. A guttural scream escaped her throat, not one of terror or of pain, but of anger and righteousness.

Shaking her head, the pain left her body. Ron and Harry were still on their knees, unearthly screams escaping their mouths. Gripping her wand, she muttered a spell that Snape had taught her shortly after Christmas. It was a dark spell, to be sure, but she didn't care at that moment. A flash of red light ripped from the tip of her wand and exploded in a ball of light around Voldemort. He was thrown to the ground like a rag doll and Harry and Ron immediately stopped writhing around. In an instant, they were at her side again and with a look saying they understood that it was now or never.

It fell to her to begin. The words were Greek, pre-dating the magic of Rome. She found quickly that forgetting the words was as impossible as forgetting her own name. She spoke her memorized incantation, focusing her magical power as she never had before. Ron followed and then Harry. A bright burst of light issued forth, not from her wand, but from her heart. Head thrown back, Hermione sighed deeply as warmth seeped through her body, overtaking pain and fear. The shouts of the Death Eaters were drowned out as Harry and Voldemort were caged in the light that she saw was also coming from Ron.

Harry's wand was a glittering gold color and Hermione saw that he was wielding it like a sword. Voldemort's wand, which he had trained directly at Harry's chest, was shiny, metallic black, visible only because of all the light surrounding them. It was Harry that struck first, stabbing at Voldemort's torso.

Voldemort whipped his wand at Harry and a ghastly looking metallic light shot from it. There was a roar and Hermione vaguely felt the ground beneath her feet shaking. The metallic light struck Harry, but was repelled, shooting out from him and smashing against a tombstone. Harry took Voldemort's surprise as his opportunity, lunging forward and running Voldemort through with his golden wand.

There was a shriek and Hermione felt the power coursing through her begin to stutter and shake. She cried out, and heard Ron do the same. Harry was unable to let his wand go and stood watching as Voldemort screamed and shuttered. Holding on for dear life, Harry twisted his wand once and wrenched it out of Voldemort's chest. The same light that surrounded them burst out of the wound and the ground around them shook even more fiercely. Hermione felt the wind whipping through her hair and watched as a bolt of golden lightening struck the Dark Lord. There was a smell of burning flesh and Hermione knew then that they had succeeded.

In a fury, the other Death Eaters had attacked them. All of the light had vanished suddenly and there was only moonlight to see by. She had fought then for her life, striking blow after magical blow against the other six Death Eaters. They had fallen fast. 

"Hermione?" A hand touched her shoulder gently.

She shook herself out of her memories. Somewhere in the course of reading, for the umpteenth time, about the witch burnings, she had fallen to remembering that fateful night in Godric's Hollow. She attempted to smile at Harry, but instead merely yawned.

He laughed, "Maybe you need a nap, Hermione."

"You're probably right. I don't know why I feel so tired," she lied. It was past three in the afternoon, but she'd been unable to shake away the drowsiness caused by her uneasy night.

"If you'd like, go lay down and I'll make sure to rouse you for tea."

"Alright. I'll see you in awhile then. Wake me up if you need anything."

Harry just hugged her and she wandered to her bedroom, where her bed welcomed her into a deep sleep.

_Hermione was walking down a very familiar hallway. Harry and Ron were walking a few steps behind her, talking about some Quidditch match or other. She wondered how they could be talking about Quidditch at a time like this, for today was their final test. They had studied, prepared, dueled and had sustained countless bruises and even a few broken bones in their quest to destroy Voldemort. All the Horcruxes were gone. Now all that was left was this last spell._

It would take the three of them to cast it, but it would both protect Harry and give him a weapon to destroy Voldemort. Professors Snape, McGonagall and Lupin had trained Harry, Hermione and Ron respectively to use the spell. Now, Lupin had told them, they must prove themselves worthy to wield the magic they sought to use.

Their footsteps echoed in the stone hallway, which was deep under Hogwarts. They came to an imposing wooden doorway and it was Hermione who knocked. Predictably, there was a creaking noise as it opened.

"Please enter," a smooth voice spoke to them from out of the darkness. As they entered a circle of torches in the center of the room flared to life and they found themselves in the company of a group of robed figures. Hermione's confidence faltered then, for she knew the figures were not physically present – they were merely spirits of those who had come before to use this magic.

The spell had been passed down through a small group of wizards who guarded its ancient magic. Dumbledore had once been a member of the group.

"Ms. Granger, if you would, please step forward and draw your wand." McGonagall looked at her piercingly and Hermione hesitated only briefly. She took a deep breath and moved into the circle. There was a stone basin set into the floor, which was filled with a golden liquid. She was reminded of a pensieve filled with Felix Felicis. 

"Please speak your incantation, Ms. Granger," Snape instructed her.

Hermione closed and aimed her wand towards the stone basin. She spoke the words that had echoed through her head for a fortnight.

Hermione felt as if she was floating. There was nothing but inky darkness, above, below and all around her. There was only nothingness and Hermione wondered if she even existed here. At this thought, she felt a small thread of fear wrap around her heart. For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger was desperately unsure of everything around her. There were no clues, no signs and definitely no books to give her any information. There was no light, no sound and she was obviously alone. She felt time drag on and her fear only grew. Something was wrong and she was trapped, had to be. But where?

She would not have time to ponder this as the blackness began to dissolve into an odd gray light and she felt her body begin to spin. Closing her eyes against the blur of motion, she choked back the sickness moving up from her stomach. There were tears leaking down her face now and for some reason, this gave her the tiniest glimmer of hope.

She slammed into the ground with a dull thud and blinked a few times before looking carefully around her. Under her feet was what appeared to be solid, gray stone, it was featureless – dull and impossibly smooth. It was surrounded completely by violent, black water. Hermione had landed on her stomach and she quickly pulled herself up to a sitting position. There was an unexplainable fear in her mind that told her it would be impossible to stand up and not fall into the water. She looked into the distance and saw storm clouds looming on the horizon. Instinct told her that if she was still on the rock when the storm passed over her, she would not survive. She stared at her hands as hot tears once again pricked her eyes and desperately, she tried to think of a plan over the endless churning and roaring of the waves.

"Hermione!"

Her head shot up and she looked around her in a full circle.

"Hermione!" A familiar voice, Harry's voice, was screaming her name, but it sounded as if it were all around her. There was pure and utter terror in that sound and she was immediately petrified of what that meant.

A loud wind roared up from her left as the screaming continued and Hermione saw that the storm clouds were already upon her. There was brilliant lightening flashing between the clouds, which were as dark as the blackness she had felt only minutes ago. 

She was quickly shrouded in the rain that fell from the dark clouds and she could not see more than a few feet in either direction. Hermione was soaked to the bone and freezing cold. Her teeth chattered and her body shuddered violently as the rain continued unabated. Falling to her knees and clutching her arms around her legs, she pressed her forehead against the cold stone and knew without a doubt that she would die here. The wind howled in her ears and the rain traveled in torrents down her neck, through her hair and into her face, but despite this noise, she could still hear the screaming. It was no longer her name, only a wordless shriek. 

Without warning, everything went silent and the rain stopped. Raising her head, Hermione saw that Harry's face was floating only inches from her own. She looked into his eyes and felt a sudden surge of strength. Those green eyes looked back at her, serenely.

"Harry?" she managed to choke out. Her mouth felt dry and her throat was scratchy.

A smile appeared on her friend's face and quickly widened. A flash of relief passed through Hermione, but was cut off as the smile turned from friendly to wicked. The green eyes that had given her so much relief turned to a vile, blood red color and the friendly face twisted into a black, scarred visage that would forever haunt her. It loomed up until it surrounded her, opening its mouth.

She screamed. The face screamed and Hermione felt as if her whole body would burst apart. That scream snaked itself inside of her and twisted her insides. She was enveloped in complete fear and pain and the only thought that could break through her mind as she began to fall was a simple prayer her mother had taught her as a young girl.

Now I lay me down to sleep,  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  
If I should die before I wake,  
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

_For she was now, indeed, falling through the blackness once more – only this time, there was an eerie red light everywhere and it was highlighting the scenes spinning wildly before her. There were people all around her, but they weren't falling as she was. They appeared as if she was watching a strange movie. Straight ahead, she saw something that she knew must haunt Harry: there was a redheaded witch clutching a toddler to her chest as a dark shadow followed her into a back room. To her right, she saw Harry and Ron, alone in a dark cell. They were stretched out on the floor, unmoving. She craned her neck and the scene loomed closer. She saw that they were both dead, killed viciously, as evidenced by the countless stab wounds all over their bodies. The blood shimmered in the moonlight filtering in from somewhere off screen. She didn't even have time to react as the scene changed to her parents being tortured by Death Eaters. Again and again the pictures changed, showing her gruesome scene after gruesome scene. She saw friends, family, even people she didn't know meeting their deaths and experiencing everything she had ever feared. It wasn't only death, but sickness, hunger, torture, rape, loneliness, madness, and just pure and simple pain. There was lots of blood and sometimes none at all. Occasionally, people deserved what they got but usually they didn't._

She saw everything, finally for what it really was, evil- and not only that, but evil born of fear. For every act she saw was rooted deeply in fear and betrayed some weakness of the perpetrator. In that moment of understanding, something else became immediately clear. There was no way she could fix any of it. There was no way she could stop fear – it was the seed for hate, for malice and for evil. It had been the cause of everything she had just witnessed and also of everything she had just felt. She was powerless to stop it. Her actions were often prompted by fear, even this – this spell they had chosen. Hermione had sought out a way to end Voldemort's campaign of horror simply because she was afraid. There was nothing behind her actions but that. To see good prevail, to save the world, that meant nothing. She didn't want to be afraid anymore. There must be a way.

At this thought, everything stopped spinning and the red light disappeared.

"Hermione! Hermione, please! Wake up, please." Harry cried out as he pressed his hands to Hermione's shoulders, trying to stop her shaking. She blinked and inhaled sharply before looking at him. She was obviously startled and watched him without speaking. "Are you ok? What was that? What happened?"

She gave no answer as tears started to roll down her cheeks. Without thinking, Harry moved next to her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling his friend to his chest. She settled down, but he could still hear her soft crying.

"Please, Hermione, you have to tell me what's wrong."

She sighed and pulled back, wiping her eyes. "I saw… what I saw that night, Harry. Of everything I've dreamed, I've never seen that and it just… god, I feel so…I don't even know."

Harry instantly felt guilty. "Have you been having nightmares?" He barely detected her nod, but still felt angry with himself.

"This is my fault. You said in your letter that you were feeling better, that they had stopped and that you thought it meant you were ready to see everyone again. It's my being here that's making you have those nightmares again."

She didn't deny this and looked at him with an incredible amount of sadness in those brown eyes. Harry was stunned at everything he saw there. "God, Hermione, I'm so sorry. I need to leave. You can't go through this all again – it was my fault that you did it in the first place. I should have just listened to Snape. He said I should keep you and Ron safe-"

"That's not true, Harry. It's not your fault."

"It is. I shouldn't have let you do what we did."

Hermione jumped off the bed and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. "Please, that's just an excuse, Harry! It's why you went away, to keep us safe and it didn't work, you know. I was haunted, I was terrified by everything I saw, and everything I felt. Of course, I was, Harry, I was young. But I didn't do it because of you, or even for you, I just did what I had to do."

"It wasn't your job, Hermione, it was mine." He was clenching his teeth, feeling angry that she had convinced herself that all of this was her burden to bear. "You could have had a normal life, you could have gone to school and you could even be teaching now. You'd have a life, Hermione, not just your cottage and your books!"

"I like what I've done here, Harry. It gave me a place to work and to think. I couldn't have gone back anymore than you could have. My father was gone and my mother thought it my fault."

Harry looked startled as she said this, and also knew that it couldn't possibly be true. "She never felt that way, she couldn't have."

"I saw it in her eyes, Harry. She was hurt and alone and it was entirely my fault."

"You can't blame yourself for that. If it weren't for me, your parents would have been safe. Don't you see? I can't stay here with you. I thought I could be here, with you, and we could work together and I could start to build a normal life. I'm never meant to have that, it's not even right for me to be here with you."

Hermione sobbed, tears running down her face. "No, no, you deserve it, just like I do. That's why I wanted you here, why I even went to the wedding in the first place. I wanted to see what I'd saved, wanted to live in the place that I'd given so much up for and see everyone that helped me do it. You should have that too." Without hesitation, Harry stood up and gathered Hermione into his arms, crushing her against him. 

"But-"

"No, I can't have you blaming yourself for this. The nightmares will pass. It's unreasonable to think that I could just jump right in without any adjustments. But you have to be here, Harry. We have to do this together – that's why we couldn't do it the first time around. Ron had his family, and now he has Andie, but I have no one Harry. I can't do this without you." She was still within the circle of his arms and he felt her relax slightly as she finished her tangent. Her breath was heavy and he could feel her pulse racing, but she took several deep breaths to calm down.

He kept his arms firmly around her awhile longer as a rush of memories came back to him. All the hugs, and the friendly kisses and the times she brought him food to eat. She had taken care of him always, and now it was time that they took care of each other. It was time to give her everything she had given him. 

"Come on then. It's time for tea and afterwards we can talk some more." He kissed the top of her head gently and pulled away. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze before following him to the kitchen.

They made dinner together that night, side by side as she sliced potatoes and he cut up tomatoes. They made seasoned pork chops and roasted potatoes, with a salad on the side. Over dinner they talked about her work, what she had been researching and what she planned to do. Harry told her about reversal charms he was working on and how he had been developing a way to eliminate the AK curse. She was fascinated at the implications and offered additional information.

They retired to the living room after their meal and talked about friends from school ("Lavender Brown dated Colin Creevy?" "Oh yes, and he broke her heart") and the wedding. Hermione told him about her mother's trip and Harry updated her on Professor Lupin. The fire had died out and the night had grown late when they finally retired to their separate bedrooms.

Harry awoke the next morning feeling rested and content, feeling admittedly better than he had in a long time. The small cottage was still quiet at this hour and he decided that a walk into the village was in order. He quickly showered and was out the door in twenty minutes, strolling down the lane that connected Hermione's cottage to town. There were wild flowers on either side of the road, and to the East, he saw the North Sea shimmering in the early light. A tingling sensation settled in his stomach as he breathed in the salty sea air and his step lightened somewhat. He felt at home, which he hadn't felt even in his last year at Hogwarts. They had spent considerable time at Grimmauld Place that year, rather than the castle. But here, he felt like he had gone back to something after far too long.

_July 29, 2003_

Ron Weasley was stretched out on a deck chair aboard the HMS Neptune and enjoying the lovely view of his wife drying off after a swim.

"Will you stop staring at me, Ron? You're going to give me a complex." Andie turned to look at him, grinning, before tossing her towel over his head.

Ron laughed and pulled the towel away. "I love you; so what if I can't stop watching you? Better than other women, right?" Andie just smirked as she took a long draw from his rum punch.

"We arrive in Little Cayman tomorrow, you know. One of Ginny's friends was telling me at the wedding that the entire magical quarter is underwater. She said it's amazing to shop there- sea turtles and fish are all around you," Andie said as she settled into her chair. 

"That sounds nice. Can't say I care too much about shopping, but that's just Ginny's friends for you." He took her hand gently in his and looked at her shining wedding ring carefully. "I can't believe we only have two nights left on the ship. This honeymoon has gone by far too fast."

"Oh, I could live on a cruise ship," Andie sighed, smiling at him, "When I retire, I want to travel around on the wizarding ship that goes to a different port every single day, all over the world. You know, Tahiti on Tuesday and Antigua on Wednesday."

"I hate to break it to you then."

"What's that?"

"You shouldn't have married a teacher if that's how you plan on spending retirement. I've got this friend that's loaded and he's available. He's a bit skinny though, has goofy glasses and bad hair."

Andie's only reply was to pull him to his feet and whisper in his ear, "Come with me, and I can show you why I married a teacher."

Ron grinned and without another word, followed his wife back to their cabin.

Later that night, Ron and Andie had ordered room service for tea and were settled in their cabin, snuggled deep into ship-provided robes. Andie was carefully assembling a plate from the dishes and platters scattered around as she listened to Ron talk about the upcoming school year.

"I think it's time I petition McGonagall to make Muggle Studies a required course. There's too much that's not being taught and with the way things are right now, I think the students need to be more aware of the world around them."

"Do you think she'll agree to it?"

"There's no way to tell. Hermione wrote to me about some of the research she's been conducting. I'm hoping some of her theories can be stepping stones for the course structure."

"What is it that she's been working on?"

"Some theories about why magical genes aren't more prevalent. It's pretty heavy stuff. Genetics, I think." Ron made a face – genetics wasn't something he'd really managed to wrap his head around. Muggle science was not his strong suit. "The outline was pretty far over my head but she rambled on her in letter that she could probably explain it better if given proper time to prepare."

Andie snorted. She'd heard enough about Hermione to know that one of her favorite things was talking about what she'd been learning. There was no doubt that Hermione was a smart one, but Andie wondered if she wasn't a bit obsessive.

"What about you? Any plans for this year?"

Andie shrugged. "Nothing much new, it should be a pretty typical year."

Ron was concerned over her disinterest in school – it was usually one of the things they talked about most. "What's wrong? Are you not looking forward to the new term?"

Andie was now considering him carefully, and seemed to be weighing something. He knew better than to pressure her further and just waited patiently for her to speak. "Well, see, the thing is, even before we got married, I realized my focus had shifted a bit. I think it started when Fleur had Adelaide and Elise…"

"Are you saying you want a baby?" Ron cut her off, feeling a mix of pleasure and surprise at the turn of conversation.

Andie looked doubtful as she nodded.

"That'd be good, I think. It'd be nice to start a family."

"Really?" asked Andie, quietly, looking down at her hands.

Ron was surprised over her apparent shyness over this topic. He reached across the table and brushed his fingers gently against her cheek. "Of course, Andie. We've talked about a family before."

"I know – I just didn't think you'd be ready."

At this, Ron laughed. "I don't think we'd ever really be ready you know. I kind of got the impression from my dad that nothing could really prepare you for what it's all about. But now, now is perfect. We're both young and healthy, with plenty of available babysitters."

Andie laughed at him, turning her head to kiss his fingers. "You're absolutely right. I'll probably have to beg for them to let me take her home."

"Oh, is it to be a girl first? I always rather fancied a son first."

"I think there are enough Weasley males running around. I think I ought to do my part to even things up a bit."

Ron laughed. "There are only two boys in the current round of kids. How will the Weasley name ever carry on?"

"Oh, that seems like a real problem so far."

Ron laughed his agreement. "I suppose it doesn't matter which it is, as long as it's not twins."

"Oh, lovely that. You've gone and jinxed us now."

"But twins skip a generation!"

"Is that a Weasley Standard Tactic to get women to have your children?"

"I can't very well give you all my secrets, can I?"

Andie stuck her tongue out at him before taking another bite of dinner. He returned the favor before his face softened and he reached across the table to kiss her mouth. "You'll be a good mum, you know," he said after a few moments, whispering the words against her lips.

Of the five islands they'd visited, Ron liked Little Cayman the best. Their cruise had been to small islands scattered through the Caribbean, all with extensive magical populations. The magical ships were permitted limited access to ports (something about the disappearing and reappearing liners bothered Muggle tourists), so the cruises offered were far different than the typical fare. Ron knew that the Muggle population was under two hundred, but the magical quarter was home to nearly one thousand witches and wizards. The quarters were indeed under water, obscured magically by what Muggles thought was an undersea wall.

There were dozens of shops, restaurants and other tourist traps underneath the crystal blue waters. Each passenger aboard the ship had been given a Portkey to take them to the welcome center; the ship would be out of view of the small island, with the additional security of obscuring charms. Immediately on landing in the welcome center, Ron and Andie were accosted by wizards dressed up like pirates, pressuring them for a photo. Ron, feeling like a seasoned pro by now, declined the photo opportunities and pulled Andie out into the quarter.

Immediately, Ron was stunned by the sight that met them. Rather than the sky, he saw shimmering water, filled with marine life darting about. There were thousands of little, brightly colored fish and Andie pointed out a sea turtle swimming overhead. They gawked openly for a few minutes before Andie pointed out a small gift shop, saying that they could at least pick up a few souvenirs.

Nearly forty minutes later, they emerged from the shop laden with packages.

"Do you think Hermione really needs a beach towel? I mean, I've never known her to go to the beach," Ron asked, shifting myriad bags so that he could reach his wand.

"It's the thought Ron – and besides, it isn't like Harry needs all the rum you bought. Whoever heard of mermaid rum, anyhow? Last time I checked, no one grew sugar cane under water."

"It says here on the bottle that mermaids stole it from pirates, who had stolen it from a naval ship. And besides, you're the one that picked out that creepy floating sea turtle. It just… swims, in mid-air. Who's that for anyhow?"

"Isaac. I got one for Sadie too, sort of as thank you gifts."

"I'm sure that Charlie and Fred will both be pleased," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

Andie shrugged and began the process of shrinking down the bags into something a little easier to carry. She opened her purse and Ron helped her place the shrunken parcels inside. After that was finished, they began to move once more down the main thoroughfare. There was more shopping, followed by lunch and a trip in a magical bubble out in the water, where they were able to better see all the wild life.

Dinner was to be held on the island for the final night of the cruise. There was a huge space cleared out in the center of the busy street, with café tables set up sporadically. A local band played soft music as waiters bustled from table to table, bearing trays laden with local specialties. They sampled turtle soup and a local fish dinner, followed by soaked rum cake.

Finally, the tables were cleared to the sides and the band became the center of the show. They switched gears to livelier music and Ron felt himself being pulled up to dance. The rum left him feeling rather carefree, so he obliged Andie with several dances.

After several fast-paced songs, the band began to play a slower song, and Ron pulled Andie against him. The quarter's lights had been dimmed and all around them were shimmering candles, which mirrored the moonlight that filtered through the water above. Ron kissed his new wife as she wrapped her arms around his neck and they danced that way, pressed up against one another, until the music died down and people began moving towards the welcome center again.

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Author's Note:

Thanks to my beta reader, Neil! Also, thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter II. This chapter came out sooner than I thought it would, so I realize that may just happen from time to time. To the reviewer who asked which Weasley kid belongs to who, I'll be clearing that all up in chapter four, where we head to the Burrow for awhile. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter IV

**A Long Way from Home**

**Summary**: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated "R" for strong language and some adult material. Contains H/Hr, Ron/OC and eventually, D/G.

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter IV**

_August 15, 2003_

Soft, bluesy music drifted out of the wizarding wireless propped on the sink in the hallway bathroom. Hermione's head rested against the edge of the large claw foot tub, and her eyes were closed as she lazily drew circles across the top of the water, humming softly along with the music. The room was lit only by the candles she had scattered around the room and she felt pleasantly light as she sipped from a glass of red wine. Sighing deeply, Hermione slid deeper into the hot water, feeling her whole body relax.

Harry was gone for the night, visiting Remus & Tonks. She had declined to go along, desiring instead some quiet time to herself. Harry and Hermione hadn't been apart much in the last few weeks. They had talked at great length each day, slowly rehashing everything that happened in seventh year, and the years following. There were tears, and even some shouting as they fought once more over Hermione's seclusion and Harry's guilt. Hermione soon found her nightmares abating and they began to talk slowly about the future. Harry had gone to North Carolina one day and had closed up the house there. His remaining possessions were still in boxes, stacked in the spare bedroom.

The night that he had brought back all of the boxes, Hermione had fallen asleep with mixed feelings of pleasure and agony. Whatever path they were on in their separate lives, they were now on it together. Harry was through with hiding across the pond and Hermione felt stronger as each day passed. She now longed to be out of her cottage, enjoying the weather and prowling through the shops in the village. They spent long hours walking down near the water and had even gone into a Muggle town about forty minutes away to do some shopping. Tomorrow, Saturday, would be spent at the Burrow, where a casual summer picnic was planned. Afterwards, they were heading to London with Ron, Andie and Ginny for a night out. Her social calendar, as she had started calling it, was rapidly filling and more and more of that time would be spent out of the small, protective cottage she had spent so much time in.

Much to her surprise, this didn't bother her in the slightest. Her slight agony, however, came in the form of the same friend who had done so much to bring her out of her self-imposed prison. Harry was around constantly and he was completely relaxed and comfortable around her. Therefore, he _acted_ completely relaxed and comfortable around her. Hermione stared into her wine glass as she thought back to the morning a few days prior. She had risen early, expecting to have the cottage to herself for a few hours while Harry slept. Much to her dismay, however, she'd discovered him sitting at the kitchen table wearing only pajama pants. He had blushed upon catching her gaze moving down his lean torso. Her heart had fluttered at the sight and she'd thought herself horrifically cliché for swooning over her best friend. After much careful thought, Hermione had put her responses up to sheer _lack_. She had been alone in this cottage, with few friends. The last person she'd dated was Ron and was feeling as if she'd missed out on something. It was obvious that her reaction to Harry was simply because she was out of practice. A girl couldn't be practically celibate for so long and not be expected to have odd…_feelings_ crop up now and again.

Indeed, Hermione was much relieved to have the house to herself for a night.

Hermione rose early the next morning, determined to get some work done. She felt as if she was on the brink of something important and longed to see if her instinct was right or if she was merely being egotistical. She made herself the usual cup of tea and a few slices of toast before settling at her worktable in the living room. There were still books stacked everywhere. In fact, Professor McGonagall had sent over several fresh tomes for her perusal; there were books heaped in large stacks in a semi-circle around the table. She felt overwhelmed by the mess suddenly. Perhaps Harry could help her with some sort of magical expansion for the room as floor space was rapidly disappearing under her work.

A large thud, followed by a mumbled curse cued her that Harry had arrived home. 

"Harry, really, I never knew you had a thing for such dramatic entrances," Hermione said, not looking up from her notes. "When did you become such a klutz?"

"Well, I suppose it was when you left a stack of books in the apparition point." Harry sounded annoyed; it was the tone of his voice that finally caused her to push her notes away.

"I'm sorry," she replied sheepishly. "Professor McGonagall apparated those to that spot yesterday and I haven't had a chance to move them yet."

Harry looked around before gazing at her with wide eyes. "Where were you going to put them?"

Hermione looked around. They had moved everything out of her office into the living room to make room for Harry; there was only her room, the kitchen and the bathroom after that. She finally just shrugged. "I hadn't quite figured that out yet."

"Hermione?"

"Hm?" she responded softly, not looking up from her work.

"It's time to leave; Mrs. Weasley is expecting us at two and I've got the fire built."

"Just…" Hermione scanned her eyes quickly over the page she was reading and jotted a note down on a long scroll of parchment. "There. Had to finish that."

"How is it going?" Harry asked as he watched her close up books and shuffle her papers around.

"I think I'm nearly there. I want to go talk to a muggle geneticist soon; there are a couple of things I need to verify."

Harry just nodded. "Is there anything we need to take with us?"

"Other than the cake? No." Hermione was grinning now and looked at him mischievously.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "I can't believe you made a birthday cake."

"Well, this is partially for your birthday, isn't it? All we did here was have a nice dinner. You have to have a cake for your birthday, Harry."

He seemed to have no answer for this, because he didn't speak again until they had flooed safely to the kitchen of the Burrow, a covered cake in hand.

"Oh, Harry! Hermione! How lovely to see you both." Molly came forward, grabbing them each into a hug and kiss before taking the cake from Hermione. She was strangely alone in the kitchen.

"Where is everyone?" Hermione asked.

"I suspect they're all outside, dear. Fred and George have brought some sort of new game along."

Harry's eyes gleamed at this: he had always been a big fan of most things the twins came up with. He kissed Molly once more on the cheek and strode from the room, obviously heading to the back garden.

Hermione heard a brief commotion in the hallway as a stampede of footsteps moved towards the kitchen. Isaac burst into the kitchen, followed closely by Sadie and Bea. Angelina was behind them, holding baby Colin in her arms. Hermione chuckled softly at all the noise they made as she looked each of the kids over carefully. She had received regular owls from Molly over the years, detailing each of her grandkids and they always included fresh snapshots.

Isaac was the oldest of all the grandkids, at four. He looked a lot like Charlie, but had his mother Annabelle's green eyes and complexion. The Weasley red hair could not be missed, but he had escaped the Weasley freckles. Fred and Angelina's kids had their mother's dark complexion, with black hair. Angelina kept Sadie's hair charm-curled and used the most adorable ribbons she had ever seen in it. George and Katie's daughter, Bea, was the same age as Sadie (which Hermione had been told amused the twins to no end) and looked like an exact replica of her mother, with the only difference being that her blond hair was slightly strawberry. 

Hermione surmised that the fun outside had grown old to the point of driving the Weasley women into the house. Angelina was followed by Katie, Fleur, Ginny, Annabelle and Andie, who was holding one of Bill and Fleur's twin girls. The noise level in the room instantly rose and Molly Weasley pushed the oldest of the kids to a small table in the corner of the kitchen that had obviously been set up for their use. Hermione saw charmed crayons that changed colors and sheets of brightly hued paper that brought the crayon drawings to life. The other ladies settled around the table while Molly levitated various snacks and things to rest in the middle of it.

"Hullo, Hermione," Andie said as she sat, cuddling the baby against her and smiling. "How're things?"

"Well, thanks. I'm keeping plenty busy with my research. And you? Are you ready for school to begin yet?"

Andie made a face before shaking her head slightly. "I've enjoyed this summer far too much to really be ready for school."

"I, for one, can't wait for school to begin. Isaac is starting at a primary school and I'm looking forward to a quiet house," Annabelle said, looking over at her son.

"Primary school seems like a luxury," Molly said reproachfully. "You're positive you don't want to teach him yourself?"

Annabelle shook her head. "I won't have the time. I'll be starting a job in September, after Charlie returns to Romania."

Molly obviously disapproved of this, but kept her mouth shut as the ladies started debating working versus staying at home. Hermione was struck by how out of place she felt here and let her gaze wander. She eventually settled on Ginny who made eye contact and a quick motion with her head. Without disturbing the conversation, Hermione and Ginny slipped into the living room. 

Ginny gagged as they sat on the long couch. "I hate those hen fests. All they ever talk about is kids and being married. Blech."

Hermione laughed. "I felt so out of the loop in there. All I could think was, 'is this the life I'd have had?' and I really hope it wouldn't have been."

"Oh please. You would have to marry my brother for that to have happened and that - I just can't wrap my head around anymore."

"That makes two of us."

"Ahh, to be young again, eh? So innocent, so clueless." Ginny snorted as she stretched her long legs out next to her on the couch. She, like Hermione, did not make a habit of wearing full wizarding dress all the time. They were both clothed in jeans and light, cotton tops. Hermione couldn't help but notice how much more glamorous Ginny seemed.

Hermione laughed. "I don't know much about innocent anything. Clueless maybe, but never innocent."

Ginny nodded her agreement. "By the way, how are things with Harry? Is he driving you crazy yet?"

"Only slightly. The cottage certainly seems smaller than I ever thought it to be."

"It's amazing how men just seem to take up more space that you'd think. It's not like any of them have more than three or so pairs of shoes."

"See, that's not what gets me. It's little things – like how he usually leaves his breakfast dishes on the table until he's ready to clean them up. Or the worst – after he shaves there are little flecks of shaving cream all over the sink. And hair of course, which is just disgusting."

"To true! I hate it when they do that." Ginny made a face as she said this, causing her to laugh.

Hermione stopped giggly and looked at her wickedly. "Know all about that do you?"

Ginny raised her eyebrow. "Houseguests of course. And all these brothers!" Ginny shouted as the Weasley men stumbled into the living room from the garden, laughing about some crude joke George had told. Harry had joined them in the laughter and Arthur looked distinctly torn between laughing and scolding.

"Hey, Gin, Hermione." Ron was the first to notice them and waved. "Is lunch ready yet?"

Ginny just shrugged and waved them into the kitchen, but Mrs. Weasley was already coming out to the living room to call everyone in to eat.

Ron whooped before leading the way into the kitchen. For the second time in less than a month, Hermione found herself sitting at the enlarged table in the Burrow. She was surrounded by Weasleys and was actually completely content. The nervousness she had experienced a month ago had disappeared rapidly and she desperately hoped that it stayed a thing of the past. She sneaked a look at Harry, wondering if she would see any of the unease that had been so apparent at the wedding. He was, however, looking right at her and she saw instantly that he had the same feeling of happiness that she did. He grinned widely at her and winked, causing her to blush lightly and turn quickly to take the basket of bread from Ginny.

The meal flew by, as Hermione found herself engaged in a discussion about, of all things, Quidditch with the twins. Fred and George both wanted to teach their daughters to ride brooms, but both Angelina and Katie were strictly against it. 

"I just can't imagine what would happen if she were to fall, Fred. You know enough about magic to control it so that you can protect yourself. She can't do that!"

"Actually," Hermione interrupted, setting her fork down and crossing her hands in front of her. "There's a lot of support for the idea that children can better intuitively control how magic protects them." 

"How's that then? If they can't control it?" Katie asked, looking at Hermione imploringly.

"Well, magic is an instinctual part of us. We can use it at a very young age. Fortunately, wizards have kept medical records for much longer than Muggles have and over history, magical children sustain far fewer of the accidents that befall Muggle children. Muggle adults, however, sustain fewer injuries than wizarding adults. It's almost as if we train the magical instinct that keeps us safe right out of ourselves."

Angelina and Katie just gaped at her while Fred and George snickered. Ginny nudged Hermione gently. "You're tipping the balance," she whispered, laughing behind her hand. 

Hermione smiled sheepishly at her old housemates and shrugged her shoulders. "Not to say, of course, that I in any way condone putting your young children on racing brooms. No need to tempt fate."

"Ha!" Angelina laughed and patted Fred on the shoulder, while George looked at her crestfallen. Hermione merely winked at him and went back to her food.

Shortly after the meal, everyone scattered to the living room for awhile. Molly and a few of her daughter-in-laws cleared up the kitchen before calling everyone back in. The lights had been dimmed and Hermione's large cake was set up on the table, ablaze with candles. Ron and George manhandled Harry to the edge of the table, and everyone crowded around him, singing the happy birthday song. Harry was ready to blow out the candles, but the twins launched into a rather crude version of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" that had Hermione quite glad all the children were all out of the room.

Harry looked amused as he was clapped on the back and jostled about before bending down to blow out the candles. As he did so, his gaze locked with Hermione's across the table and he smiled strangely at her in the instant before the room went black.

Hermione was grateful for the momentary darkness, for she was blushing for the second time that day. Molly must have flicked her wand, however, because the lights quickly came back up.

"What did you wish for mate?" Ron asked as his took a piece of cake from Molly.

"Now, Ron, he can't tell you that," Molly admonished, passing around additional slices.

"I wished that I would never have to hear that bloody 'Jolly Good Fellow' song again," Harry interjected. He caught Hermione's eye once more and winked at her. She was suddenly wondering what all the winking was about and her stomach did that annoying flutter again. It was becoming all too familiar and she made a vow to see about stopping it as quickly as possible.

They passed around cake and the ladies split a bottle of wine before everyone once again split apart, this time for the evening.

Hermione and Harry found themselves readying to floo with Ron, Andie and Ginny to London, where they were going to a play and out for a late dinner. They made the rounds quickly, saying goodbye to everyone and taking leftover cake from Molly. Ron led the way through the fireplace and they exited in a small parlor filled with cardboard boxes. A large dog came bounding in from another room; Hermione recognized it as the dog that had been running around at the wedding. It took turns greeting each of them before bounding onto the couch and settling down to watch them all intently.

"Sorry about Scout and for the mess," Andie said. "We're moving on Monday, so there's just sort of all this stuff around."

Hermione shrugged it off. "You ought to see my living room. Harry nearly killed himself on a stack of books this morning." Harry poked her in the side as she said this before following Ron out of the room.

"A lot of this _is_ books. The house in Hogsmeade has a small library off the kitchen and I'm absolutely in love with it. I'm in love with the whole house really; I can't wait to start painting and decorating. These boring old white walls do nothing for me." 

"How'd you manage to get Ron to agree to a house with a library?"

Andie's eyes just twinkled as she led Hermione to a spare bedroom. "I honestly have no idea. Call it my feminine wiles." She opened the door for Hermione and waved her into the room. "I hope you don't mind, you and Ginny will be sharing in here tonight. Harry has the couch." The sparsely furnished room had two twin beds and a chest of drawers. Hermione spotted a long mirror and mentally went over their plans for the evening. "This'll be fine. What time should I be ready?"

"Seven-ish ought to do. The play starts at eight-thirty."

Hermione nodded and closed the door after Andie. She pulled the small garment bag from her pocket, whispering a quick charm to return it to full size. As she pulled the zipper, there was a knock at the door, followed by Ginny opening the door.

"Are you getting ready? What are you wearing?" Ginny had her own garment bag in hand and was quickly unzipping it.

Hermione held her dress against her, swirling slightly.

"Oooh, Hermione, how pretty!" The dress that Hermione had chosen was a cocoa color, with skinny straps and with a slightly flared skirt. She had made a special trip to London for it and had splurged on the entire outfit, complete with shoes and matching bag. There was even a simple bronze necklace that she had picked out. Ginny fingered the soft material between her fingers, smiling. "You'll look great in this, I think."

"What about you? What did you get?"

"Oh, I had this, wore it once to an exhibit opening, but I haven't had a chance to wear it since." She held the gown up to her chest, mimicking Hermione's motion. This dress was various shades of pale gray, with flimsy material that was almost ethereal. The gray brought out her blue eyes and seemed to make Ginny's bobbed chin length hair (she had recently taken off about six inches) look brighter. Hermione looked from the dress to Ginny's face to see her friend considering her carefully. "You should let me do your hair tonight."

Hermione had trimmed her own hair last week. It now brushed a few inches below her shoulders and she had been amazed at how much lighter her own hair felt. "Alright."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. You've always been much better at this than I have."

"Ah, you had more important things on your mind when we were at Hogwarts." Ginny winked at her and pressed the garment bag into her arms. "Go get showered and dressed. Meet me back here."

Hermione quickly stepped into the shower, adjusting the unfamiliar controls to a comfortable temperature. She lathered her hair with shampoo, scrubbing it into her scalp until thick bubbles had formed. She twisted it up and placed on her head before reaching for soap. After forty-five minutes, she was clean and powered. She had used some makeup potions on her face, adding light color to her eyes and a bronzing potion to her face. Now, her hair hung damp around her shoulders as she stepped back into the bedroom.

Ginny was ready for the evening. Her hair was dry, makeup in place and her dress hung perfectly. Hermione nearly wondered aloud at her ability to get ready so quickly, but decided to let it go. She must have made a face, however, because Ginny shrugged slightly before looking down at her dress.

"Practice."

Hermione just nodded and Ginny directed her to a chair, immediately beginning to work with her wand. The long curls that Hermione had worn for so long were being quickly straightened. Ginny seemed to be far more adept at achieving this than the potion Hermione had last used in fourth year. The straightening went quickly enough and Ginny began tucking on the long strands, pulling the hair off of Hermione's neck and into a loose up-do. With several waves of her wand, Ginny had secured the hairstyle and was adding the bronze necklace to Hermione's outfit. Another wave of the wand and shimmery powder dusted her exposed shoulders.

Stepping back to admire her handiwork, Ginny grinned. "You look gorgeous, Hermione. I swear it."

Hermione felt suddenly and inexplicably nervous. She had sat through Ginny's ministrations with a sort of detached amusement, amazed at herself for allowing such silliness as what she thought basically amounted to a game of dress-up. Now, however, she was serious. She was getting ready for her first night out in, well, forever. Ginny looked at ease in her designer dress, perfect makeup and expertly styled hair; Hermione felt like she was walking around in someone else's skin. 

Ginny drew Hermione from her perch and pulled her towards the mirror on the wall. Gasping, Hermione trailed her gaze down its full-length, trying to comprehend the figure in front of her. She was twenty-three, not far off from twenty-four, but looked better than she ever had. Her figure was slightly curvy and she was shorter than Ginny, but the dress she had picked complimented her coloring well. Her skin was rosy, much better than the paleness that had robed her for the past few years; all of the sunshine she had been getting had definitely improved her overall appearance. Ginny had pulled her hair back, exposing her neck, but had left a few strands loose to frame her face. Hermione was somewhat astonished by the entire effect and wondered mildly if it was actually her own reflection.

"You'll knock 'em dead," the wizarding mirror said, in an oddly misplaced American accent. Hermione and Ginny both giggled and picked up their handbags for the evening.

Ron and Harry were waiting in the parlor. Ron had on a black suit with a white shirt, but no tie. Harry was wearing charcoal slacks and the darkest green shirt Hermione had ever seen. They were standing in front of the fireplace, chatting easily but hadn't noticed Hermione and Ginny yet. With a little "ahem" noise from Ginny, they both turned to look in the direction of the hallway.

With a sharp intake of breath, Hermione allowed her eyes to travel over the full length of Harry's form. The shirt and pants were both tailored, with the green shirt making his eyes stand out and the gray pants making him look very tall. She felt that damned flutter once more and quickly averted her eyes to the floor.

"Wow, Hermione. You look fantastic." It was Ron who spoke first, crossing the room in a few quick strides to kiss Hermione gently on the cheek. Harry, she noticed, was still standing by the fireplace and was gaping at her. She smirked slightly, feeling relieved that she apparently wasn't the only one who was speechless.

"And what about me? I suppose I should have picked something other than this old rag," Ginny added jokingly.

"Well, you're my sister. If it were up to me, you'd go everywhere with your cloak buttoned to your chin."

"Oh, how very Victorian of you, Ron." This remark came from Andie, who had just wandered into the room. She was wearing a violet dress and her dark hair was down, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Ron left Hermione's side and grabbed his wife into a hug, kissing her gently. He whispered something to her and Andie only blushed before disentangling herself from her husband's arms and moving to talk to Ginny.

The little scene between Ron and Andie seemed to jolt Harry out of whatever sort of state he had got himself into and he quickly moved to Hermione's side.

"You really do look amazing, you know," he whispered.

Hermione grinned cheekily at him. "Thank you."

Harry's response was lost as Ron pushed everyone towards the front door. Huddled together, they each apparated to a small service alley next to the Leaky Cauldron.

The old tavern hadn't changed since Hermione's school days, but she knew from the _Daily Prophet_ that Diagon Alley wouldn't be much like she remembered it all. Many of the war veterans had been shaken by what they'd seen, but the wizarding world had bumped right along, enjoying a great deal of post-war prosperity. Diagon Alley, Hermione knew, had been on the receiving end of vast improvements. They made their way quickly through all the hubbub of the Leaky Cauldron, waving at Tom as they passed through.

Ron held the door for the rear courtyard, letting the ladies pass ahead of him and Harry moved to open the entrance to the alley. The site that met Hermione's eyes dazzled her. There were countless little fairy lights strung up on the store fronts and wizards and witches dressed up for a night out pushed to and fro on the street. Knockturn Alley had been dismantled immediately after the war and a few enterprising witches had turned it into a favorite nightspot. There were a few restaurants, a club or two and a large theatre that was right across from Gringott's, which was the group's primary destination for the evening. Inevitably, the store owners in the main part of Diagon Alley had latched onto all the partygoers and kept their shops open on weekend nights. Many couples and groups of young witches and wizards flitted in and out of these shops, carrying bags and comparing purchases.

Ron and Andie were leading the group, with Ginny following close behind, but Harry and Hermione were hanging back and taking in all the sights. This was Hermione's first trip back into the heart of the wizarding world since before her seventh year at Hogwarts. She had a longing to just sit right down at Florean Fortescue's and just watch everyone move by. Certainly the people she was seeing were much younger than the traditional group that milled around during the day. There was a definite electricity and excitement in the air. Seizing the moment, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand, giving it a squeeze and laughing. 

"Can you believe all this?" he asked her, seeming to sense what she was laughing about.

Hermione shook her head. "Definitely not. A few years ago, this place would have been deserted this time of night. All the little shops closed at five on the dot. Now look! I've never seen this place so busy."

"It was all those little old witches around all the time, I think. Always made me want to toe the line, have dinner right at five and bed by eight. This is definitely the influence of the younger set."

"Absolutely. They earned it didn't they? This whole new world?" she felt odd for a moment, wondering if she had earned this as well.

"We earned this, Hermione." Harry's tone was very serious and he seemed distant once more. Hermione squeezed his hand gently again, before letting it go and increasing her pace to keep up with everyone else. They were both somewhat subdued the rest of the walk to the new theatre, which seemed to be the focus of all the evening's activities.

There was already a long line snaking down the street from the entrance to the large building. The architecture mimicked one of Hermione's favorite buildings: The Globe Theatre. It too was an open-air theatre, but the area around it was charmed so that it would remain open year-round. The walls were a smooth stone and there wasn't any thatch roofing to be seen. The shape, however, was still the same and Hermione was reminded of summer plays with her parents in Southwark. Tonight was opening night for _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ and the long line let Hermione know that it was undoubtedly sold out.

A flash of light brought Hermione's attention round to a group of reporters clustered around the entrance, snapping photos of the gathered crowds. There was a shout and she noticed some anonymous person pointing directly at their small group. The reporters rounded on them and a spew of questions erupted from them.

"Miss Granger! What brings you to Diagon Alley after all these years?"

"Mr. Potter, have you returned to England for good?"

"Mr. Weasley, is this your wife? Ms. Weasley, have you brought a date with you tonight?"

Instantly, Hermione felt her whole face flush and was grateful when Harry and Ron pulled her, Andie and Ginny closer together and began pushing back the reporters. It was Ron who stepped up to answer the questions being fired at them.

"We're just out for the night folks – hoping to enjoy a great play here tonight. No need to cause a fuss."

"Mr. Weasley, what do you have to say about the accusations that you all deserted us after the final battles?"

"I have no comment for that. Really, we're just here for the show."

"Mr. Potter, have you been living as a muggle all these years?"

"Of course not."

"Ms. Granger-"

"Oy!" A loud voice echoed out of the theatre behind them. Dean Thomas was pushing his way through the crowd that had squeezed around them, obviously coming from the direction of the theatre's doors. "These are my special guests tonight, you'd do well not to harass them or I'll have you all removed from these grounds."

A few reporters had the decency to look sheepish, but more than that continued to fire questions. Dean just kept pushing them back, trying to make room for Hermione and her friends to get off the street. A familiar face stepped forward and Hermione found herself grinning at Colin Creevy.

"How about a photo of you three, just for old times' sake?" he asked kindly, holding his camera at the ready.

For their old schoolmate, Harry, Hermione and Ron were happy to oblige and they stepped closer together for a pose. Hermione slid her arms through Ron and Harry's and smiled earnestly for the picture. Colin thanked them and they were released to follow Dean into the lobby.

"You could have warned me you'd be here!" Dean accused. His smile was a dead giveaway however. "It's great to see you all together again."

"It's great to be here. Do you work here Dean?" Harry asked, beaming at his old dorm mate.

"I built it, actually. Was all Heather's idea..."

Hermione was taking the in lobby, which was adorned with elegant decorations. The outside may have been Elizabethan, but the inside was strictly modern. There were glass doors leading into the main theatre and a contemporary looking bar set off to the side. The lights were low and everything seemed decked out in blues, silvers and purples, eschewing the typical reds and gold so prominent in many theatres. The ceiling above them twinkled with thousands of little stars and a large fountain trickled on the far wall.

"…we decided there needed to be something a little more elegant here. The clubs and restaurants are nice, but there needed to be some real entertainment." Dean apparently had continued to talk at length about the theatre. He was leading them through the lobby and up a staircase that led to the upper galleries. They were soon being ushered into a private box above the large round stage.

"We had tickets, you know. Seats all picked out and that," Ron said jokingly as he took a seat next to Andie. Harry settled himself between Ron and Hermione and Ginny sat on the end, at Hermione's left.

"Oh, now that I know you're here, I could never let you sit anywhere else. These are the best seats in the house, I guarantee it. Stephan here will be your host this evening. He'll bring you drinks and something to eat, if you're hungry. I hope you enjoy the show."

Dean bowed gracefully before backing out of the box and closing the dividing curtains. Their "host" took drink orders and scurried away, leaving them all alone in the box as the theatre below and around them began to fill up. They chatted easily and looked for familiar faces down in the throng. Hermione, for her part, remained distinctly distracted at Harry's closeness. He turned often to look at her, his green eyes focused on her so intently that she felt her cheeks flush every time. After half an hour or so, the lights dimmed and a gentle song began to float through the theatre. Hermione was immediately and gladly captivated as the stage brightened, bringing her into what was easily her favorite play and one that she knew almost line for line. As the scene in Athens began, she became absorbed and let her thoughts gladly drift away from Harry.

Intermission came too quickly for her tastes, but they left the private box and wandered into the main lobby, where waiters were circulating trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne. Hermione snacked on a lobster puff and sipped her champagne as she listened to the conversations going on around her. Harry and Ron were discussing something about houses in Hogsmeade while Ginny and Andie debated the merits of the show.

"I simply love how modern it feels. The scenes in the woods have been so open and so…_sexual_," Ginny said.

"Ugh. I much prefer something a bit more chaste. I mean, really, it seems as if they're all just running about, high as kites and all sexed up," Andie replied, shaking her head.

"Ah, but that's the fun of it. It's a comedy, after all."

"I think one of my favorite things about it, actually, is that it is so timeless. It can be done in a fairly contained manner, or it can be a bit racier," Hermione interjected. "It's just an easy play to enjoy. But anyway, don't you just love the sets?"

Andie and Ginny both agreed on this. In fact, the theatre specialized in providing realistic sets for all of its plays and magic made all of the changing around much simpler. If she wasn't mistaken, Hermione was positive that the trees in the forest were real and she knew for a fact that the fairies were actually flying. They talked further about the costuming and the music and intermission was over quickly enough. 

The play was over much too soon and they were exiting the theatre again, heading for a late-night dinner. A handful of restaurants had opened in Diagon Alley and there was one that specialized in exotic fare and magical entertainment. A group of artists walked through the restaurant, performing real versions of Muggle magic tricks. They sat in a corner booth, surreptitiously arranged by Hermione so that she wouldn't spend the dinner at Harry's side and in agony, watching the acts and sampling fare from all over the world. It was the wee hours of the morning before they finally made it back to Ron and Andie's, exhausted but happy.

_August 20, 2003_

"Damn it, Hermione!" Harry Potter had once again been blocked into his bedroom by a stack of boxes. This was the third morning it had happened since getting back from London. The Monday morning following their trip, Hermione had begun packing away some of her research materials in an attempt to neaten up the cottage and reduce all the clutter. So far, she only succeeded at piling boxes in front of his door and getting distracted by something she'd come across.

A fuzzy head appeared over the boxes and Hermione looked at him from the floor only a few feet away. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and she had a pair of reading glasses pushed on her forehead. She was looking frazzled and was now blushing. "Sorry, Harry. I got distracted."

"By what?" he asked incredulously as she began to help him shift the boxes around to clear a path.

"An article in the Daily Prophet." She handed the paper over to him and he read the front page as he walked into the kitchen.

**Famous Trio Makes Surprise Appearance in Diagon Alley  
_By Desdemona Nyx_**

Harry Potter and his equally famous friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, made their first public appearance together in over five years. This trio is best known for their defeat of Lord Voldemort the spring of their final year at Hogwarts. They are also credited with the destruction of Lucius Malfoy and a band of loyal Death Eaters that caused mayhem throughout Britain after the death of Voldemort. 

After their celebrated defeats, they shied from the spotlight, withdrawing from our world nearly completely. Ron Weasley eventually took a job in the Ministry of Magic but Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter disappeared entirely, amidst rumors of their whereabouts and mental states.

On Saturday night, opening night for A Midsummer Night's Dream at Diagon Alley's Apollo Theatre, Mr. Potter arrived with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, as well as Ginevra Weasley, long-time friend of the group and Mr. Weasley's sister, and Professor Andromeda Weasley nee Dickens. The group was VIP guests of theatre proprietor Dean Thomas.

Speculation as to the sudden public appearance has raised countless questions from local wizards and witches.

"Where have they been all these years? After the war, times weren't easy and we needed them!" Lacy Lurman, of Mayfair, is quoted as saying.

"I always thought they were too good for the rest of us. A private box at that show goes to prove that," said Baxter Paddington, of Whitechapel.

"Actually, it's quite nice to see them back again. They should be allowed to enjoy themselves," argued Hortensia Adams, a self-confessed Potterist, from Kent-

"What's a Potterist?" Harry asked, looking up from the Daily Prophet.

"Well, I suppose it's a bit like a royalist," Hermione answered, making a face.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Well, see, in the continuation of the article, it talks about the differences of opinions of everyone when we left. Some people thought it was nasty that we walked away, that we were deserting everyone. Others, well, they were okay with it. And those people are Potterist."

"That is the silliest thing I've ever heard in my life," Harry answered, looking somewhat pained. "Why would anyone care?"

Hermione shrugged. "We were, well, we were like heroes weren't we? Dumbledore kept you at the Dursleys for this reason. He knew what sort of problems you might have if everyone treated you differently because of what happened."

"But still, I just don't know why anyone would care that we were out at a play."

"That's not true. You know exactly why they care. That's part of the problem, after all. You know that they care because they rely on you. You're why they feel safe. It's the burden you chose, Harry."

Harry folded the paper, with the headline picture of them face down on the table. He crossed his hands over the paper and stared at his finger tips. He knew that Hermione was waiting for him to say something, but he couldn't look at her. That face would be too much to stand right now because she was, of course, absolutely right. He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before finally looking at her.

Hermione was looking at him with the strangest face. He didn't even have the chance to study that look before it changed into just a general mask of sadness.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I wish… that I could take it away from you," she said softly, bending her own head to look at the surface of the table.

He didn't answer her, but instead got up and leaned over her to kiss the top of her head, pulling her into a partial hug. He kept his lips pressed to her hair for a few moments longer than was really necessary. He heard her sigh ever so softly and backed away from her. He quickly set about making breakfast and boiling water for tea. She sat at the table a few moments longer before taking up the paper and heading into the living room. He could hear her moving about as she packed more books away. When he knew she was out of sight, he smiled to himself, thinking of the look that had been on her face that had caught him so off guard. 

A breakfast of bacon and eggs came together pretty quick and before long Hermione was back in the kitchen and setting the table. She began talking suddenly, about her project and about an appointment she had that afternoon with a Muggle geneticist.

"You see, there are two different kinds of genes, dominant and recessive. The genes required to perform different types of magic are all recessive genes that require that both parents have the genes, or at least some of them, for a child to be magical. The problem is that these genes are rare enough that people frequently get only one set of the genes. But there's another factor involved. There are test subjects that have both sets of genes, but no magical abilities, like squibs. It seems as if there's some sort of, oh I don't know, trigger. That's what I'm stuck on."

"You don't know what the trigger is?" Harry asked, feeling a bit out of his league for this conversation. He knew that this was mostly Hermione talking herself through something. She had done this frequently throughout their entire friendship. He was a frequent soundboard and thus understood that he was mostly expected to be quiet and just let her talk. Over this particular topic, he was more than happy to do so.

"I think I almost know what it is. I feel like - like it's right there. I can almost sense it, but it's just beyond my reach." She had stopped setting the table and was just staring off into the distance, turning a plate in her hands. "There's a key to it and I think it's something to do with squibs. Anyhow, I want to talk to this geneticist because my knowledge is imprecise. We didn't study this at Hogwarts and I have a lot of questions for him."

"What time is your appointment?"

"Four o'clock. I'm going by floo to London and I suppose I'll have to take a taxi from there. Should probably leave around three to give myself plenty of time."

"Do you want butter and jam?" he asked, setting a plate stacked with toast on the table in front of her.

"Yes, please. What about you? What do you have planned today?"

He speared eggs on his fork and answered her between bites. "More counter-curse stuff. Ron has some notes for me at his house, so I'll leave after lunch to go get them."

"Are you any closer than before?" Hermione asked as she spread jam over a piece of toast.

"Not really. I think I've hit a dead end with the lead I had. I'm hoping these notes will get me to think in a different way."

"Listen to you. How do you like all the research then? Was this a career that you imagined for yourself?" She was grinning at him, nearly smirking.

"Err, not quite, no. I think if I really thought about it, I expected something a bit more action packed."

"Hah! Well, at least you finally understand that books have their uses."

"Well, I always knew that. I just always thought they were better when you used them. My gut reaction probably always will be to head in both barrels blazing."

"Jolly good then, I always like to hear it was me that prevented you from some terrible death."

Harry just grinned at her as he was beginning to really relish this easy bantering in their relationship. He felt completely in his own skin around her, in a way that was even missing between him and Ron. There was something about her friendship that was comfortable and instinctual.

After breakfast, he offered to clean the dishes while she returned to her work in the living room. Before long he had showered and was sitting at a small table in his bedroom. His own workspace was fairly clean at the moment, because he'd spent yesterday filing away notes that he no longer believed would be helpful. On the table, there was only a pad of parchment (he hated scrolls and snapped the pads up as soon as they became available via owl order from Diagon Alley) a few quills and a large book on counter-curses and magical theory. It was a book that Fred and George had loaned him, as they'd used it back during the war to make true protective objects.

Several hours had passed when Hermione was knocking on his door, letting him know that lunch was ready. He walked out into the living room and mock-gasped.

"Look, Hermione! There are wood floors in here. Who knew?"

"Ha-ha."

"Nice work, though. Where'd you put everything?" He looked around in a circle, wondering where all the books had disappeared to.

She blushed slightly and pointed at her desk. Underneath a small side table, dozens of miniature boxes were stacked haphazardly.

He laughed and turned to face her. "How will you ever find anything?"

Her blush deepened. "I, erm, numbered everything and catalogued it."

"Well, do you at least feel as if you can work now?"

"Oh, absolutely. I couldn't get anything done in that mess."

"Good." He waited until she'd seated herself at the table before sliding into his own chair and taking a cheese toasty from a plate in the center of the table. There were big bowls of tomato soup at each of their places. Lunch was eaten in mostly silence, as Harry had his mind lost in the state of the cottage. He was internally agitated that Hermione had to rearrange her workspace just so that he could stay there. For not the first time, he wondered how much he was really intruding upon her. 

True to his word, he was readying to leave for Ron's house when an unfamiliar owl tapped at the kitchen window. He cast a wandless spell that checked the owl for any potential harm before opening the latch to allow it entrance.

It fluttered past him and must have delivered a letter to Hermione, for it quickly came back through and went out the window. He looked into the living room and saw her reading a piece of parchment with a blank look on her face. He reminded himself to ask her about it later and slipped out the door to apparate to Hogsmeade.

Ron was standing in the parlor of his new home, adjusting a picture frame over the fireplace with his wand as Andie directed him.

"To the left Ron. Your other left - your other other left."

"Damn it, woman. You have a wand, help me out here."

Andie chuckled and flicked her wand, thus satisfying herself with how the picture was aligned. Ron stepped back and greeted Harry.

"Harry, whenever you get married, get the hell out of the house when your wife starts redecorating, that's my advice."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll remember that by the time I get a wife."

"It'll come back to you some day, I'm sure. Hopefully, it won't be too late." He clapped Harry on the shoulder and led him into the library off the kitchen. Upon entering, Harry let out a low whistle.

"Andie could give Hermione a run for her money with all these books. Looks like you've got a thing about bookworms."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Ron said distractedly as he dug through a pile of parchments. He pulled out a thick folder and handed it to Harry. "These are some reports we got in for months after the war ended. There were all these raids going on at old Death Eater homes and hideouts. These reports specifically mention any protective or defensive charms found, both light and dark magic."

"These will be perfect, thanks."

"Do you need anything else?"

"Actually, do you think you'd walk around the village with me? I want to take a look around."

Ron nodded and they headed to the living room to let Andie know where they were headed. After Harry used a shrinking charm on the file and stashed it in his pocket, they went out the front door and onto the small road that led up to Main Street. Ron and Andie's house was a two minute walk from downtown Hogsmeade and about ten minutes from the school. There were a number of small cottages lining their street and Harry knew that there were others scattered through town.

They turned up the lane by the Three Broomsticks and walked down past Zonko's and Gladrags. A small dirt road ran past Madam Puddifoot's and it was towards this street that Harry aimed his footsteps. There was a large house at the end of the street, angled away from the street. A low stone wall ran in front of it and Harry immediately noticed the thatched roofing and lead-mullioned window panes. It was light yellow in color, two stories tall and had two chimneys coming out of the roof.

"I remember this house from when we were in school. Why are we here?"

"It's for let. I saw it in the Daily Prophet yesterday."

Ron peered at Harry curiously, but didn't speak. He waited patiently as Harry stood looking up at the house, his hands in his pockets.

"We need more room, see. I almost killed myself tripping over books the other day and now Hermione has everything shrunk down in these impossibly small boxes. We both need a place to work and I think maybe it's time Hermione get out of that cottage."

"Does she agree with you?"

"I haven't mentioned it yet – it was just a thought."

"I see. Well, I don't envy you being the one to ask her about all this. There's no telling how she'll react."

"Will it be bad?"

Ron shrugged. "You never can tell with women. Has she said anything about moving?"

"Not really. She seems unhappy with everything being all squished in the cottage though."

"But will she move here with you?"

Harry had a very serious look on his face when he finally met Ron's steady gaze. "I feel like I'm intruding on her life. I want to fix that and this is the only thing I can think of. She said that – that we have to do this whole 'getting back to the real world' together, that that's what friends are for."

"Well, it's a really fantastic house. I mean, it's huge and there are those little flower boxes everywhere. I've got on good authority that women like flower box things."

"Oh you have? Well, aren't you just the expert on all things women now?"

"Ha! I wish. Come on; let's head back to the house so my wife can tell me what back-breaking work I have to do next."

Harry was simultaneously nervous and excited to ask Hermione about the house. He had no idea if Hermione was ready to leave her cottage yet and he didn't think she'd take too kindly to him being the one to suggest it. He checked his watch, and seeing that it was nearly five o'clock, wondered if Hermione would be home yet. He seriously doubted it, but opened the door quietly so as not to disturb her in case she was working.

As luck would have it, the cottage was empty and strangely silent. He made himself a cup of tea and settled down at Hermione's tidy desk to go over the notes from Ron.

A few hours later, Harry was jolted out of his work when a large thud sounded behind him. He turned in his chair to see Hermione standing in the apparition point, surrounded by more boxes.

"What's all that?" he asked, taking in everything she had brought with her. "And how did you get it here?"

"Sheer willpower," she answered, chewing on her lip. "This is all stuff from that doctor. Some of it is books, but the rest is some stuff so I can put a small lab together to analyze the samples he gave me."

"Uh, Hermione, this might not be the best time to bring this up, but-"

"Where am I going to put all of this?"

"Err, yes."

"Well, Harry, I was thinking. I love having you here, with me, you know I do. But this is just…not working. We have no room, and we have too much work to do."

Harry's heart was sinking. "Do you want me to leave?"

Hermione laughed at this and Harry brightened a bit. "Of course not! What I was thinking, and I can't even believe I'm suggesting this – you've only been here a month and yet, here I am- Harry, we should move."

It was Harry's turn to laugh. "That's exactly what I was going to say to you."

"You were?"

"Yes. I just think it's time to get out of this cottage, Hermione. I know it's beautiful here and I hate the idea of not seeing the ocean everyday, but this is just silly. We won't be able to get anything done if we stay cooped in here like this."

Hermione sat down on one of the soft easy chairs and looked squarely at Harry. "I'm so relieved you think so. I need to be somewhere less remote right now. I'm at a point in my work where I just can't be so far from everything."

"Was there anywhere you had in mind?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not really, what about you?"

"Well, I did see this one house, in Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade? How close is it to Ron and Andie?"

"At the opposite end of town."

"I see. What's it like?"

"I'll tell you over dinner," he said in lieu of an answer, for he had decided he'd rather just show her than try and describe it.

He told Hermione as much and they tucked into a quick dinner, getting through clean up with lightening speed. Once back in the living room, Harry helped Hermione into a light summer cloak and tugged at her hand, pulling her out the door and into the yard. Once there, he called for his Firebolt. 

"You want to go by broom, Harry? Won't that take ages?"

"Of course not. Is this ok?"

Hermione looked doubtful.

"Just trust me, ok? I won't let anything happen to you."

As they climbed onto the broom, Harry tried to think of a time he had flown with Hermione just for the sake of flying. In the past, they had only flown together in the face of some sort of danger. During seventh year, she had been dating Ron and had flown with him whenever they all needed to travel. Harry adjusted his position slightly so that she could more comfortably wrap her arms around his chest. She let him know when she was comfortable and they pushed off, aiming the broom due south.

The night was cool and breezy and Harry was glad he'd insisted on cloaks. They flew quickly, skirting along the forest's edge and occasionally flying out over open water. Hermione kept her face firmly planted against Harry's back until he convinced her to lean back.

"Oh, Harry," she let out slowly, her voice just a whisper in his ear. "This is amazing."

They were flying over the sea, which was surprisingly calm and reflected the bright, nearly-full moonlight. The evening sky was dotted with thousands of glittering stars and the night was cloudless.

Harry felt his face flush as she spoke and pulled herself tight against him. He was aware of her entire body pressed against his, from where her arms were wrapped around his chest to where her breasts pushed into his back. She was warm and completely calm. Her breath was close to his ear and every so often, it tickled his neck. Goosebumps jumped out on his arms as they soared quickly towards Hogsmeade. Harry edged the broom to fly faster suddenly wondering what on earth had possessed him to suggest this method of travel. His whole body was in agony, as he had a strong desire to turn right around on his broomstick and kiss Hermione, safety be damned.

_Shit, Potter. You have_ got _to get out more._

Truth be told, he had probably been sending entirely too much time with his best friend. He had had a fling or two while hiding out in North Carolina, but that felt like ages ago. His entire existence lately had been dominated by Hermione's presence. Of course he was keenly aware of what parts of her pressed against him – she had been his entire focus for nearly a month! Of course, none of this meant anything. It was just a natural reaction, especially for someone who had barely touched another human being in far too long.

As promised, the flight to Hogsmeade was relatively quick. They alighted a few feet from the stone wall that ran in front of the house. Hermione let out a soft gasp as she took in the house.

"Oh, Harry. This is just like my grandmother's house." Harry had to admit that the house certainly made a good impression. Every window was lit brightly from within and smoke curled slightly from both chimneys. Moonlight highlighted the flower gardens and the stone path leading up to the front door.

"Have you been inside it yet?" she asked quietly.

"No, but there were some pictures in the newspaper. It looks nice inside, hardwood floors and really big rooms."

"What does it cost?"

"Don't worry about it."

"What do you mean, don't worry about it? You'll tell me what it costs, Harry Potter."

"It's not much, Hermione. But any expense would be worth it. There's even an outbuilding that you can have your lab in, do you see?"

He could tell that she knew he was avoiding the question. He was determined that he would bear the costs of this place. It was his fault she didn't have a job and that she'd lived under the Order's watch for so long. He needed to make it up to her.

"You're feeling guilty again, Harry. I know that look. I insist on paying for half of this and you're going to allow it."

"Oh, you just know that do you?"

"I won't move if you don't let me."

She had her arms crossed and was staring at him. He withered instantly and just nodded. She grinned and threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh, I love it. I really do. When can we get it?"

Harry laughed, hugging her back tightly. "I'm not sure. I'll owl about it first thing in the morning."

She nodded and they climbed back onto the broom, taking one more look at the house before setting off.

The trip home was only marginally less painful than the first one, simply because Harry had decided he might as well enjoy all the closeness. They talked most of the trip back, able to hear each other perfectly using a couple of simple charms. As they reached the air above the village, they fell silent once more, taking in the twinkling lights of the homes and watching as a storm advanced from the east. When fat raindrops began to fall, Harry quickly pushed his broom downward, rushing to get inside before they got too wet.

The watch on his bedside table read 3:24 a.m. He had been unable to sleep so far, anxious as he was for the next day. There was more research to do and he felt already that he might be on a better path as far as that was concerned. There was also the note to write about the house in Hogsmeade. He hoped the news would be good: that the house was still available and that they could move soon.

Harry pushed back the covers, deciding he could at least read until he felt tired. He lit his wand and wandered into the living room, letting the light glide over the titles of all the different books. He picked a crimson covered one, with gold gilt letters reading _Howard the Half – Strange Magical Accidents and Other Bizarre, yet Entertaining, Stories_. Tucking the book under his arm, he swung his wand light around. On Hermione's desk, he recognized the parchment that had been delivered earlier in the day. He couldn't recall whether or not he'd seen it there earlier and his curiosity got the best of him. His eyes flicked to Hermione's bedroom door, which was still firmly shut. Picking up the parchment, he unrolled it silently.

_H-_

I see that you've decided to meet your public after all- you should have listened to me when I said you needed out of that suffocating cottage. You look well in the photo, but as usual, your choice in companions leaves much to be desired. 

Be wary; I've been hearing a lot about you and what you've been up to. You need to keep a lid on this as long as possible.

-D

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Thanks to my beta reader, Neil! Also, thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter III. Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you so desire - I really appreciate your comments and thoughts! 


	5. Chapter V

**A Long Way from Home**

**Summary**: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated "R" for strong language and some adult material. Contains H/Hr, Ron/OC and eventually, D/G.

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter V**

_August 21, 2003_

Harry Potter slammed the front door of Ron Weasley's house. Ron's owl had assured him that Andie was out shopping, they'd be able to talk alone.

"Harry?" a familiar and comforting voice called from the kitchen.

"You won't bloody believe this!" Harry strode into the kitchen, Hermione's letter clutched in his hands. 

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, as Harry turned into the doorway and stopped, holding the parchment outstretched towards his friend.

Giving him a curious look, Ron took the parchment and read it slowly. His eyes grew large as he reread it twice. "Is this… this is from Malfoy. It has to be."

"Yes, that traitor! He feeds us information all through the war, and at the end, when we finally need him to testify, he disappears. He cost us months in those cases! And let's not even mention Dumbledore."

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. You can't get ballistic over this Harry. You don't even know it's from him for sure."

"Oh, who else could it be? 'Your choice of companions,' you can almost hear him say it in that whiny little voice of his."

"That may be, but you're overlooking one important fact."

"Oh, and what's that?" Harry asked, fuming.

"It's not your letter. Does Hermione know you have that?"

Harry shook his head, but it did nothing to waylay the anger burning in his stomach. "I left while she was in the shower. She won't miss it."

"HARRY POTTER!" A very unwelcome voice was coming from the living room. Harry groaned and followed Ron out of the kitchen. Hermione's head was floating in the fireplace and Harry could tell, even with the flames, that she was furious.

"How dare you, Harry! I know you have my letter."

"So what if I do? What's Malfoy doing writing to you anyhow?"

"That's none of your business and you know it. If I wanted to tell you about it, I would have. You give me that parchment right now."

"No," Harry answered stupidly. He stuck the parchment into the pocket of his jeans, crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Hermione defiantly.

Instantly, her head disappeared and they heard a loud _pop!_ Within seconds, Hermione was striding into the living room; her own furious glare matching Harry's.

"What is wrong with you, Harry Potter? I can't imagine what is making you be so rude."

"It's this letter, Hermione. Don't you remember what he did, what he promised to do?"

"Of course, I remember. But that has no bearing on this situation right now."

"Why are you getting letters from him?"

Hermione sighed and looked down at the floor for a moment before lifting her head. "Because he doesn't have anyone to talk to where he is and he writes me letters from time to time."

"Why you?" he relaxed his stance somewhat, letting his arms fall to his side.

Hermione sat down on the couch and ran a hand through her hair. "Does it really matter, Harry? It's just Order business."

"What Order business? Draco Malfoy has nothing to do with the Order."

"But of course he does, Harry. He's a member, and a protected member at that, just like we are."

Harry and Ron both sat down, staring at her. She must have taken this for an urge to continue, because she plunged right in.

"He's a sworn member of the Order. He took an oath just like we did, right before seventh year. He fed us information all year, including, might I remind you, that which led to the demise of the people responsible for killing my father, and your brother, Ron. He paid a steep price for all that and has been in hiding ever since."

"So what's this got to do with you?" Ron asked, speaking for the first time since Hermione had arrived.

"Well, he had to be moved around quite a lot. McGonagall asked if he could stay at my cottage for a few nights while they arranged a new place for him. I had one of the safest locations in Britain, it just made sense."

"You had that man if your house?!" Harry cried, feeling horrified.

"Well, yes. If it helps, I really didn't want him there and it was a miserable couple of days."

"No, that doesn't help at all!" Ron cried incredulously.

"How could you possibly let him there, Hermione? He could have betrayed your location," Harry stated.

"No, he could not have. There were protections in place against that and he didn't even know where he was."

"I don't believe this," Ron answered, tugging his fingers through his red hair. Harry had been repeating this same motion for several minutes and his own hair was standing out wildly in all directions.

"Well, it's long past, isn't it? We're not friends or anything, but he occasionally sends those letters and I occasionally reply. You should both know how lonely it is when you're all by yourself all the time."

Harry refused to answer her, instead choosing to stare at his hands. She didn't offer any further explanation, but stood up and crossed the room. She kneeled down in front of Harry. 

"You can't be mad over this, Harry. It's really not that big of a deal."

"Why couldn't you tell me?" Harry asked quietly, meeting her steady gaze.

"I couldn't. You know how it works; that sort of information isn't just passed around."

Harry just shrugged and went back to looking at his hands. He heard her stand up and walk from the room. There was another _pop!_ and they knew she was gone.

"Blimey, Harry. I can't believe-"

"I know. I just don't get it. She's just using that "classified information" nonsense as a scapegoat. She just didn't want to tell me about it."

Ron shifted uncomfortably next to him, causing Harry to look at him. 

"What?" Harry asked.

"This whole situation makes me so uneasy, Harry," Ron said quietly. "She could have been hurt any number of ways. So what if he fed us information during the war? It was all just to stay alive, wasn't it? Didn't he just pick the side he thought most likely to win?"

Harry shrugged and let out a sharp breath before standing up. "I need to go talk to her."

"I suppose one of us had better and I'm glad it's not me."

"Gee, thanks."

Ron walked with Harry to the apparition point in the front hallway and looked at him sadly before he disappeared.

In a blink, Harry found himself standing in the middle of the living room at the cottage. He heard the shower running and what was undoubtedly crying in the hall bath. Feeling completely powerless to do or say anything, Harry sat down on the couch to wait.

Hermione emerged from the bathroom after 30 minutes or so. Her hair was dripping wet and her eyes were red. She looked at him blankly before turning quickly and heading into her bedroom, slamming the door shut. Harry sighed and stood from the couch to go knock on her door.

"I don't want to talk to you right now."

"You don't have a choice, Hermione. We need to talk about this." He placed his hand on the doorknob, but was only rewarded with a sharp pain in his fingertips. Furiously, he banged his fist against the door. "I'm coming in there!"

True to his word, he wandlessly crashed the door open and stood, framed in the doorway, staring down at her. "I don't think you understand, Hermione. This is not a 'no-big-deal' situation!"

"It is, Harry. Malfoy is by no means a dear friend of mine, but he is someone with an ear to the ground. Occasionally, he sends letters with updates and such. I'm his contact, Harry, that's really it. I send most of his letters onto McGonagall."

"Most of?"

"Yes, Harry, most of. Sometimes, his letters are just personal. Why can't you understand this? He's not a bad person."

"He's an arse and a traitor. He's dangerous!"

"He is not! You weren't here, Harry, you don't know what it was like. When he stayed here, he was hiding out, and he was broken. He wasn't the same spoiled little kid from Hogwarts. That person doesn't exist anymore." Hermione was curled in on herself, refusing to look at him. For his part, his jaw was clenched and he kept his fingers curled into the palms of his hands. 

"That may be, but it's not right for you to be corresponding with him."

"Don't you dare issue such judgments with me, Harry! You're not my father, you don't control my life. You left me, Harry. You went away and left me here, without a single letter. You left me here to pick up the pieces of my life after you took me through hell. I won't sit here and listen to you judge me and tell me how to live my life!"

Her words fell like heavy bricks. He blinked several times and saw that she seemed stunned by her own outburst. "Is that how you feel, Hermione? That I deserted you?"

She didn't respond, but merely let her head drop into her hands. She was crying again and his resolve cracked with each shudder of her shoulders. He stood watching her for a moment before settling himself next to her on the bed and pulling her against him. She instantly wrapped her arms around his neck, crying on his shoulder.

"No, I don't think that. I'm sorry, I really am."

He didn't respond, but instead just held her, willing that to be enough. They were silent awhile before he squeezed her against him gently. "I'm sorry too. You're an adult witch and I've known that you're capable of taking care of yourself as long as I've known you. You just, well, it just scared me, ok? I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."

She sniffled in response and settled herself deeper into his embrace. With this movement, the mood shifted wildly and he found that he was moving his hands up to frame her face. She watched him intently, her eyes still damp with unshed tears. With the pad of his thumb, he wiped away one that slipped slowly down her face before leaning forward to press his lips against her cheek.

She stiffened and pulled away from him. "We mustn't do this," she said quietly, before disentangling herself from his embrace and leaving him alone to figure out what in the bloody hell he had been thinking. 

_October 13th, 2003_

Time passed quickly in the little cottage. They packed boxes, organized books and research materials and finally moved to the house in Hogsmeade. Harry gave Hermione the largest bedroom, which had its own bath, and she also took a large, bright room at the back of the house to use as her study. Harry took a smaller bedroom and used its formal sitting room as his office. During the day, Hermione alternated her time between working on her research and working in the large garden in the back. October rolled around and with it, preparations for Halloween at Hogwarts. They spent most evenings with Ron and Andie, making plans for the upcoming Feast and activities. Professor McGonagall had allowed extras this year, as Halloween fell on a Friday.

Their life together was pleasant. They worked together, cooked together, watched Muggle movies and even danced to some of the records that Hermione had from her father. They worked hardest to studiously ignore anything that didn't fall into a neat little package of friendship.

Harry, for one, loathed almost every minute of it. He found himself completely caught up with her and over the oddest things. She frequently chewed her lip as she worked and he could tell when she had stumbled across something that worked well with her theories: she would crinkle her eyebrows together and stop taking notes all together.

He memorized the tiniest details about her; he knew how she liked her tea in the morning. He worked to make her laugh and to make her smile. He tried to force himself to forget what it had been like to hold her as he had done. They limited any physical contact to the occasional touch on the arm and on a good day, he got a strictly platonic hug. He had no way of knowing what was going through her head and was terribly afraid to ask her. 

"Harry!" A delighted cry pulled him out of his thoughts. He heard rapid footfalls on the stairs and Hermione bounded into the kitchen, barely slowing as she threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly on the cheek. "I've done it! Everything just fell right into place."

"What do you mean?"

"I've found it, I've found the allele!" she crowed, throwing her head back and laughing. "I've got exactly what I need. There is a witch, Doctor Tyler, who has studied both magical and muggle medicine. She's specialized in magical diseases, but also in muggle genetics and she wants to publish my findings."

"She knows you've found it already?" Harry asked, trying to latch onto at least part of what she was saying.

"No, not as such. She's aware of what I'm working on and has already offered to publish my reports once my work is complete. She has a fantastic medical journal."

"Hermione, that's amazing," Harry said, hugging her once more.

"Isn't it? Here, come with me and I'll show you!" She grabbed his hand and began pulling him up the stairs to her study.

Her study was impeccably organized. There were large whiteboards on the wall, covered in her neat handwriting. She pointed to the board closest to her desk; it was covered in complex diagrams that made his head spin.

"The answer should have been obvious to me, but there it is. Magical proteins only exist because of these genes that code for them. _Those_ genes are coded for by a certain type of allele, which is _only_ present in Muggles, but they can last generations. So, you see, we can't survive without Muggles. It's over-simplified to say it that way, but there it is."

Harry looked at her board, astonished. "This is mind-boggling, Hermione. This could change all of the magical theories about superiority and purity of blood. What else does it mean?"

"The implications are nearly endless, actually. But to begin with, it partially explains why some witches and wizards are more powerful than others. If these genes have been recently introduced to a bloodline, data shows that for a period of probably seven or eight generations, you're going to have some very strong magic."

"And if it's been too long since these genes were prevalent, then you have families with weakening power?" Harry ventured.

"Absolutely. It explains why squibs happen as well. And on a more personal level, it explains why you're as powerful as you are, and why Voldemort was as powerful as he was. And even Dumbledore had Muggle grandparents." Hermione said, rambling slightly. She was gesticulating wildly, pointing at various notes on her boards.

"What about you? Your parents are Muggles." 

"Right, and by my reckoning, my children will be far more powerful than I am. They'll have a very potent combination of magical and Muggle genes."

Harry's head was spinning as he took all of her information in. He knew that the ramifications of all her hard work would hit many in the wizarding world very hard. It shattered the beliefs of a lot of people.

"I can't believe you did all this, Hermione," Harry said quietly. "This is just… unbelievable. What'll you do now?"

"Publish this, of course. I want to study it further, see what the boundaries are, and what sort of medical value could be gained from this. Think about it – what if Muggles hold the cure to some of the worst magical diseases of our time?"

"We should celebrate," Harry replied. He had forgotten his own uneasiness with Hermione over the past few weeks and was simply bursting with pride for his best friend's accomplishment.

She beamed at him. "That would be wonderful. Can you be ready in twenty minutes?"

"Of course I can; I'm a guy."

She laughed. "Right you are. Meet me downstairs in twenty then."

He showered and changed into nicer clothes than he had spent the day in, lounging around. Much to his surprise, Hermione was waiting for him in the living room, dressed in black pants and a red top. She grinned as he walked in and stood up, walking over to him. He took her cloak from the peg by the door and held it out to her. Arm in arm, they headed out to Hogsmeade and the Three Broomsticks.

They settled into a booth at the back of the pub and placed orders for stew and butterbeer. 

"I can't believe we've been here over a month and haven't stopped in to eat yet," Hermione said as she leaned against the booth and sipped her butterbeer.

"No kidding. I guess we've been too busy."

"I think that after I publish this paper, I'm going to take a bit of a break. I've been focused on it for so long, I deserve it."

"Well, I'll drink to that," Harry replied, tipping his butterbeer towards her. 

She clinked her own drink to his and laughed before swigging it down. "Mmm, wonderful."

Harry realized his was grinning stupidly at her, but she didn't seem to care as she smiled rather goofily at him.

"I feel a bit punchy," she admitted. "This has been my whole life for so long and now it feels as if this enormous burden has been lifted. Harry, I can't even begin to imagine what this all could mean."

"You're going to change everything, Hermione."

"Do you think it'll be well received?"

"Of course not. This is the wizarding world, after all; but it doesn't matter, it's very important information. Can you imagine what would happen if people didn't know about this? If your theories are tested and proved to be right, you'll change the course of history. With information like this, people can't be scared into thinking that pure blood is so important."

Her eyes were wide. "You make it sound so huge, Harry."

"But it is huge! You've talked about the scientific and medical possibilities, but what about society in general? Voldemort wouldn't have gained the power and control he did if he hadn't played so well on the prejudice against Muggles and Muggleborns."

Hermione blushed slightly and shook her head. "I never meant for all that," she admitted. "I wanted this for medical reasons. I've learned some amazing things and I have new ideas about the very foundations of magic, but I guess I just never intended…"

Harry reached across the table and laced his fingers through hers. "It doesn't matter your intention, you've done a great thing, Hermione, for all of us."

She bowed her head and he felt her hand squeeze his as she stared at their hands. Further conversation was prevented as Rosmerta delivered their bowls of stew and chatted with them for a few moments.

"Has Ron asked you about costumes for the Haunted House?" Hermione asked after they'd eaten in silence for several long minutes.

"Yes, he asked if I would play some sort of crazy surgeon. I don't know where he got this whole idea in the first place, but I was even more surprised to hear that Professor McGonagall approved of the whole thing."

"I can't believe she's allowing the guising especially. Although I think it'll be fun to see what costumes and tricks the kids come up with," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"What about the older kids? I can't imagine anyone above third year doing it."

"Well, that's what the Haunted House is for. And I think Professor What's-His-Name wants to do a séance."

"The Divination teacher? Is that a joke? Won't the ghosts be offended by that?" Harry asked.

"I doubt it. It probably won't even work," Hermione said, obviously disgusted by the very idea of success at such an activity.

"What caused Ron to come up with all this?"

Hermione just shrugged. "I think he wanted a reason to dress up."

"What are you going as?"

"A mummy. He wants me to do this whole bit where I rise out a sarcophagus and start stumbling around groaning at everyone." 

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Are you going to make your hair stick out from the bandages? I think that'd really add to the affect."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed again as he pictured a mummy-Hermione with that brown, bushy hair sticking out every which way. This mental image proved to be too much to handle and he began to laugh harder, clutching his stomach.

"Oh, ha ha, Potter. Just keep it up."

"Or you'll do what?" he finally managed.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something. I'm the brains in this friendship anyhow."

Harry rolled his eyes mockingly at his best friend and took a spoonful of stew into his mouth. "So what are you plans this week? Now that your research is wrapping up."

Hermione sighed and smiled. "Those are such lovely words," she said, laughing. "But I'd hardly say this is close to being wrapped up. I suppose I'll try and get that paper at least sketched out. It shouldn't be too bad, maybe ten days' worth."

"Ten days! Hermione, that's insane!"

She shrugged. "I feel like I need to get it out while it's fresh."

"Don't these papers usually take months, even years?" Harry asked, looking highly nonplussed.

"Usually. But I think I can handle it," she replied defensively.

Harry knew it wasn't a good idea to press this further and merely sighed, letting his shoulders sag. "If anyone can do it, it's you," he said quietly.

Hermione winked at him and tore off a chunk of bread from the loaf they were sharing. She began talking excitedly about the Quidditch game they would be attending that coming weekend. Harry became fairly certain the world must be ending if Hermione was looking forward to a match.

_November 14th, 2003_

**Hero of Voldemort's War Publishes Findings; Shockwaves Felt throughout Wizarding Britain**

_By Ebenezer Wilkes___

Hermione Granger, one of the great Trio that was responsible for the defeat of Lord Voldemort, will be publishing her controversial findings on the genetics of magical persons. Ms. Granger has recently returned from a self-imposed exile from the wizarding world. Her research was primarily completed during this absence. It is rumored that her work theorizes how magic is actually the chemical reaction of two types of genes. Magical Healers have come out as greatly opposed to this reasoning, as they say there is no physical manifestation of magic in one's body. It is also rumored that Granger's work suggests that it is necessary to our future that interaction and intermarriage be encouraged. There is great outrage even beyond the medical community- CONT., c14

Sighing, Hermione pushed the _Daily Prophet_ away from her. The research hadn't even been published, but as usual, the whole damn wizarding world was up in arms about something they had absolutely no understanding of. She had even received a handful of nasty letters about her work, one which rather rudely stated:

_This is just another way for your type to feel superior, Ms. Granger. Your side won the war and Muggleborns are being granted the same freedoms as everyone else. You are single-handedly destroying our way of life! We can't be too harsh with you, however, because you're simply too naïve to understand what pride and honor are._

Harry had made a big show of lighting the letter on fire in mid-air, without even using his wand. She knew, however, that he was actually quite worried about her safety. She had angered many without so much as a published word being available; there was no telling what would happen when the full report was public. They had received summons to meet with the Minister of Magic later this afternoon. Harry had at first tried to convince her to let him go alone, but she was bound and determined to defend her work.

"Hermione?" She heard Harry calling out to her as he walked down the stairs to the living room. He entered as he was fastening his robes properly. "Are you ready?"

She stood from the couch, smoothing out her own gray robes. "I suppose."

"Alright, to go over it one more time, we're sitting in on a department head's meeting. The Minister's advisors will discuss several issues and will want to go over some of my reports. Following this, they'll want to talk to you about your paper."

"Will you be there through all of it?" she asked, feeling a bit nervous.

"Absolutely," he responded, crossing over to her and giving her a hug. "I'm always here for you during times like this."

She hugged him tightly and nodded. "Let's go then."

He held out his arm to her and together they apparated to the Ministry of Magic. They went through the motions of gaining entry and were quickly in the Atrium, going through the security checkpoint. They entered the lift and went to Level One, where Harry clutched Hermione's elbow as he led her through a plush seating area. There was a dividing wall fifteen or so feet from the lifts and in front of this stood the receptionist's desk. A small, round witch with a large red beehive and round, thick-framed glasses on a beaded chain was seated there and looked at them disdainfully as they crossed over to her,

"May I help you?" she sniveled.

"Yes, please, my name is Harry Potter and this is Hermione Granger, we're here to meet with the Minister."

"Did you have an appointment?" she replied, flipping through a large appointment book.

"Yes, ma'am."

"The Minister is currently off the floor, but he will be returning shortly. If you'll please have a seat over there, I'll announce you when he's ready."

They took chairs opposite the desk and sat silently, waiting. Before long, the lift doors opened and an entourage of people exited onto the level. Minister Scrimgeour was at the head of the group, followed by his department heads and several assistants. They were all talking rapidly:

"Sir, there's been four deaths reported in Birmingham. Two Muggles and two witches, Muggle police cannot identify the cause of death-"

"In addition, a child has gone missing down near Kent. He vanished in thin air, sir-"

"And sir, down in Wales, a duel broke out between a local wizard and a man that is a suspected Death Eater, three bystanders were injured. They've been brought to St. Mungo's for treatment-"

"Enough! This will continue in my office," the Minister said sternly. "Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, if you'll please follow me." He waved at them and quickly, Harry and Hermione joined the group heading into the Minister's Office. They all took seats around a large conference table that had been set up especially for this meeting.

"Now, that we're all here, I'd like to begin," said Scrimgeour, standing as he motioned for everyone to sit. "I realize that it seems odd, Mr. Potter, to invite Ms. Granger to our meeting today, but I feel that it is of utmost importance that she understand all that is happening in our world. If you please, Mr. Potter, would you share with us your report?"

Hermione saw Harry squirm out of the corner of her eye; she reached over and squeezed his arm gently, urging him to go forward.

"Minister, it is my belief that Dark activity has experienced a spike in behavior over the past six months. Prior to my arrival in England, I observed troubling activities in the States, and there was no shortage of cooperation between American and British wizards. In addition to the instances that were mentioned by this group out in the lobby, there have been nine other instances of Dark activity in Great Britain. That averages approximately two instances a month, the level at the beginning of the last war against Voldemort."

"What do you feel is the cause of this activity, Harry?" asked some unfamiliar wizard. Hermione didn't have the mental faculties to identify him; she was still reeling from what Harry had said. 

"There is an unknown wizard gathering supporters, on both sides of the Atlantic. At this point in time, we do not know of his identity or his motives."

"Do you think these attacks will continue?" asked a blonde witch wearing emerald green robes.

Harry looked down at his hands a moment before meeting the witch's steady gaze. "I do."

A rash of angry murmurings spread across the table and it took the Minister three attempts to quiet everyone down. "Now, listen. We will not make the same mistakes we have in the past. Shacklebot, I want you to ready the Aurors. Using Mr. Potter's reports, you need to locate any cells of this person's supporters. I want to know who it is as soon as possible. The rest of you need to follow the plans outlined in a memorandum that I will be sending out this afternoon. We need to be united and we need to strike early." He paused and looked at the group of people surrounding him. He turned his stern eyes to face Hermione, who involuntarily shuddered. Despite her role in helping Harry to defeat Voldemort, she had avoided nearly every opportunity to have an audience with the Minister.

"Ms. Granger," he said, with a commanding tone is his voice. "You will remember well how divided many people were in the last war. I think you can agree that it would be disastrous for everything to fall apart after such a short period of peace, yes?"

Hermione nodded.

"Then you can understand why I must ask that you delay publishing your paper, Ms. Granger."

She supposed that she should have suspected this, but for some reason, she had not thought of the possibility at all. "With all due respect sir, that's just not possible. This is an important theory and it's necessary that the medical community is aware of it."

The Minister frowned at her. "Is it true, Ms. Granger, that your paper states that it would be impossible for magickind to survive if it weren't for Muggles?"

"Yes," Hermione answered simply, without a trace of apology in her voice. 

"Do you really believe that?" His hard gaze bore into her, but she held her ground, staring directly back at him. 

"Absolutely, and sir, if you had read the paper, I have no doubt that you would agree."

The Minister scoffed. "I highly doubt that, but my feelings are not important. What is important, however, is that I do my part to maintain peace. Your paper will do nothing but stir up trouble and further divide us. Do you have any idea how much of an insult this would be to old wizarding families?"

"As well it should be," Hermione replied tartly. "They've been acting just short of incestuous for millennia. The consequences of such actions must be known." She knew she sounded flippant, but her heart was beating quite rapidly. Truth be told, she honestly hadn't realized her paper was going to cause such a stir. Harry's reaction and words about changing wizardkind had seemed over the top at the time, but now she wasn't so sure he'd been far off base.

"Ms. Granger, I find you foolish and naïve. It is clear that you have no understanding of how our world works."

Harry stood abruptly, his chair sliding back, and glared hard at the Minister of Magic. "That's completely untrue, Scrimgeour, and you know it."

"Mr. Potter, you are in no better position than your friend. You have been absent for five years and it is impossible for you to understand the delicate balance that we have achieved."

"I don't care about your balance; you cannot hide the truth from people. This is exactly what happened before!" Hermione cried accusingly.

"Ms. Granger, you mistake me for someone that values your opinion. I request that you delay the publishing of your paper so that I may work to prevent any further fracture of our society. If you choose to disregard this, you should not be surprised when we do not endorse your research. This meeting is over."

Harry leaned across the table and stared menacingly at Scrimgeour. "We have acted without your support before, Minister. I assure you it's not nearly as necessary as you seem to believe." He helped Hermione from the chair and once again clutching her elbow, led her from the room without once turning to look back. They walked down the aisle of desks and into the lift, which took them speedily to level eight. From there, they left the Ministry of Magic and hastily apparated home.

Once back in their living room, Harry pulled Hermione into his arms and held her tightly. She allowed herself to lean against him, feeling slightly shaken up from all she heard. Her mind was spinning, trying to process what the Minister had said and how she had responded. She kept coming back to what Harry had first said: he expected that there would be further attacks.

"Harry?" she said softly.

"Yes?"

"Is it true, do you think it's getting bad again?"

Harry pulled back to look at her closely and she vaguely wondered what look she wore on her face. "Yes, Hermione, I think it could get bad again. Please, don't worry about it. I'll never let anything happen to you or Ron." 

She looked up into his eyes and nodded her head, almost imperceptibly. As she let Harry hold her, she steeled her resolve, understanding that very soon, they would have to take up arms again. 

She shuddered involuntarily as a horrible thought came into her head. "Harry?" she asked quietly.

"What is it, Hermione?" he replied gently, cupping her chin in his hand.

"Is this… do these attacks have something to do with-"

"Malfoy?" 

Hermione nodded, almost imperceptibly.

Harry was looking at her carefully, hesitating to answer. "I have evidence that he may have been involved in some of them," he finally replied.

She felt nauseas at his words and moved backwards to take a seat on the couch. She held her head in her hands and moaned softly, "Harry, what if this is somehow my fault? He knew what my-" 

"Hermione, please stop. I don't think this had anything to do with you." He took her hands away from her face. "We both know that we can't work with all this self-doubt and self-blame. It's never worked in the past."

She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "You're right, of course," she said as she leaned forward and hugged him. "Have you told Ron yet?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm going to owl him now."

They waited around the house for Ron's response. She made a couple of sandwiches for a late lunch and Harry lounged on the couch, reading some book or another. Hermione had sent her finished paper off two weeks ago and, true to her word, she had been relaxing. She indulged herself with a long afternoon nap and was awakened by the doorbell ringing downstairs.

By the time she had smoothed her clothes and hair and made her way downstairs, Ron was standing in the living room with Harry. They seemed to be waiting for her, because as soon as she walked into the room, Ron took a seat and Harry sat opposite him, leaving her to take a chair in the middle. She was oddly struck by being with Ron and Harry to discuss the encroaching darkness once again.

"So what do we know so far?" Ron started, looking between Hermione and Harry.

"Well, there have been 12 attacks in the past six months: various attacks, typical to the style of the Death Eaters at the beginning of the last war. There have been no Muggle targets to date and as far as we can tell, there have been no reports in the Muggle press about them. Everything is being kept fairly well under wraps, even for wizards."

"What's the Ministry's plan?" Ron asked.

"I'm not really privy to that at this time. They are searching for any information on who's orchestrating the attacks. As soon as new information is found, I'll know."

"Harry?" Ron interrupted, suddenly struck by something Harry had said.

"Yes?"

"Why are you gathering these reports? Are you working for the Ministry?"

This comment made Harry uncomfortable; Hermione watched as he shifted in his seat. "Actually, no. I'm doing a sort of freelance thing for them. I watch for dark activity and report it back. When I was in the States, I used to do round-ups of British Dark wizards trying to recruit. Seems to be the same group working here."

This answer satisfied Ron, who just nodded. "What's our plan then?" 

"Well, I'm going to look independently of the Ministry, see if I can't find out who's doing this. We'll work from there."

Ron nodded again and stood up. "Unless there's anything else, I need to get home to Andie; she wasn't feeling well today."

Harry shook his head and Hermione stood to hug Ron goodbye. "We'll be in touch if we hear anything else," Harry said, shaking Ron's hand.

"Tell Andie that I hope she feels better and to call me if she needs anything," Hermione added, kissing Ron's cheek.

"I will. See you over the weekend for dinner."

Hermione closed the door behind Ron and followed Harry into the kitchen. He went to the stove and turned the front burner on before slamming the kettle down onto the grate. Hermione jumped and walked over to take Harry's hand away from the stove. He looked down at her, his green eyes filled with anger.

"It was only five years this time."

"I know."

_December 5th, 2003_

Peeking around the broom-closet door, Ron turned his head from side to side, checking for students, other professors or a pesky ghost. The coast was clear and he stepped into the light of the hallway, pulling Andie along with him. She was snickering wildly behind her hand and he quickly pulled her toward him, crushing his lips against her. She kissed him for a moment before stepping back and moving down the hallway. She wiggled her fingers at him and turned a corner, instantly out of sight.

Ron chuckled to himself and sighed happily before heading off to his final class of the afternoon. McGonagall had agreed to a test run for the mandatory Muggle Studies class and for this first term, Ron had all of the fifth years as his final class on Fridays. Third and fourth years had the option still, as did sixth and seventh. The fifth years were a small class and this final Friday group was composed of both Gryffindors and Slytherins. There was only one week left in the term and Ron thought that the trial had been a great success. The fifth years were old enough to ask a wide variety of questions about the Muggle world, but not so old that they had formed truly concrete opinions on it.

He whistled lightly as he walked, enjoying the Christmas decorations that had gone up around the castle. His second year of teaching had been just as much fun as the first: Halloween had been a huge success and only a week or so ago, he had a fantastic lesson with his Friday class about the psychological differences between Muggles and wizards. Christmas would be arriving in no time and he had scheduled the last unit of the term to be about the religion and ancient rituals surrounding this time of year and the Muggle interpretations of these rites. He hoped that the last lesson had been a catalyst for his students and they could move into the final unit with great ease.

All of his students were seated when he arrived in his classroom, but they were far from quiet. There were several copies of the _Daily Prophet_ floating around and whatever the front page story was seemed to be causing quite a stir.

He sent a loud whistle out of the tip of his wand, quickly grabbing the attention of his pupils. 

"Everyone, please take your seats. You can put everything away; we're just going to talk today." He waited patiently as they all shifted around, rustling papers and stuffing things into knapsacks. "Alright, then, in review, we've studied Muggles this year much differently than you have in the past.

"As you'll recall, you spent third year discussing Muggle technology and inventions and last year, we covered Muggle society and history. This term, we've been covering the more psychological issues that Muggles face. We've studied the differences in how Muggles and wizards think; we've studied the differences in how they live. For these last few weeks, we will be talking about Muggle religions and spirituality. Christmas is a very important time of year to many religions, so we will study this thoroughly. You cannot have any real understanding of Muggles unless you truly understand how it is that they think. Spirituality is a huge part of that."

Ron paused, rather pleased by his little speech. He was quite excited to begin this lesson and felt that his students should be equally thrilled. He noticed, however, that they were barely paying attention. Several had pulled Daily Prophets out again and others were leaning over shoulders to read. There was also a great deal of whispering going on. Ron frowned and let a loud bang issue from his wand.

"Oy!" he called it, causing several students to jump. "What's the meaning of all this chattering? Yael, what are you reading?" He motioned for the brown-haired Gryffindor to hand over her newspaper. He looked at the head article and sighed inwardly; there were more outcries against Hermione's research along with a full editorial describing her paper in full. The paper had only been published yesterday.

"Professor?" A young blonde boy named Desmond Previtt was waving his hand in the air. 

"Yes, Desmond?"

"You know Ms. Granger quite well, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes, Hermione Granger is a very good friend of mine," Ron answered, feeling somewhat skeptical about this line of questioning.

"Then do you think her theory is right?" Desmond replied.

Ron hesitated and shifted so that he was sitting on the edge of his desk. "It has some very strong supporting evidence," he finally answered, trying to keep his face noncommittal.

"But do you agree with it?" Desmond pressed.

Ron had always had a very open and honest classroom. He tried his best to answer questions truthfully and sensed that there was no way of getting out of this. He also remembered too easily what it was like to be lied to by teachers. "I do," he answered. "I think that Ms. Granger's paper makes some very convincing statements and I personally belief that her theory makes sense. I also think that her theory could do a world of good if studied further by our Healers. There are several afflictions and maladies that we simply can't cure.

"What do you think about it?" he asked his students, speaking now to all of them instead of just Desmond.

A female Slytherin that looked very much like Pansy Parkinson raised her hand. "Yes, Hildie?"

"I think it's a load of rubbish," she stated. "Muggle blood is in no way superior to pure wizarding blood. In fact," she began quietly, "I would say it's the complete opposite."

This shocked Ron, as well as the other students. It had been a long time since he'd heard anyone say something like that. It was common during the war, but nowadays it was simply taboo to suggest something like that. He knew that in many households, there was still some prejudice against Muggles and Muggleborns, but it wasn't often spoken about. The words caused a fresh outbreak of chatter, some of it quite angry. Ron asked for silence and they quickly quieted down once again. He looked directly at the offending student and spoke evenly, "I think, Hildie, that that is a very inappropriate comment to make in this classroom," he said, once he'd regained his speech.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I didn't mean it to be," the blond girl said, bowing her head slightly.

"There was too much of that sentiment in this world and it's what got us into so much trouble during the Voldemort war. That belief is deeply rooted in the fact that too many of us know approximately nothing about Muggles. In truth, we fear them. They are far more advanced both technologically and in how they perceive the world around them. We understand that we can use magic, but we really don't know why." Ron paused, sensing that he was getting drastically off-topic from that day's lessons.

"But, sir, isn't this paper just creating more of that same sentiment?" asked one of the Gryffindors.

"I don't believe so," Ron replied candidly. "I think it goes to further our understanding of just how important diversity is. It shows that there's a closer link to Muggles and wizards than we've known before."

"My father thinks she's out to make pureblood families look bad. He says this is all just punishment for everything that happened because of Voldemort," said one of the Slytherin students sitting in the front row.

"Everyone is entitled to their opinions," Ron answered neutrally. "In this case, however, I believe Ms. Granger's aim is simply to further our understanding of nature."

"Even if it's incorrect?" asked another of the Slytherin students. Ron sighed inwardly again. He still generally disliked most Slytherins. 

"It's a theory. Nothing has been proven incorrect or otherwise. Now, as for further speculation on whether or not this paper is accurate, or whether or not it's meant to offend people, I'm ending that now. However," Ron paused, recognizing that if his experience at Hogwarts had taught him anything at all, it was to never waste a good lesson. "We're not going to drop this subject. We've studied extensively how it is that Muggles think- how they _deduct_ information about the things going on around them. To that end, we're going to have an exercise. We're going to be using the scientific method to discuss Ms. Granger's theory." The students all groaned. Half of third year Muggle Studies had involved using the Muggles' so-called 'Scientific Theory' to understand about Muggle science. Ron suspected that several of his students were beginning to regret that they had even brought the whole thing up. Nevertheless, he had a lesson to teach.

He stood from his desk and walked to the chalkboard behind him. With a simple flick of his wand, it was wiped clean of all markings. He let the wand hover in mid-air as he began to speak, outlining what had been in Hermione's paper for the students. The wand drew out some of the diagrams from the research paper and Ron talked about the Muggle science of genetics. No doubt about it, this lesson was so far off his original plan. The students, however, didn't seem to mind. Ron knew that this whole thing had been a hot topic of discussion since yesterday, but as far as he'd heard, none of the other professors had addressed it.

They continued to ask questions and much of the original animosity towards the article faded. Soon enough, the lesson was over and Ron was dismissing the students, telling them he wanted a foot-long parchment about their discussion that day. _That_ assignment had been an original part of his lesson plan.

_December 9th, 2003_

The weekly staff meeting was ending and the other Professors were filtering out of the lounge when Professor McGonagall waved him over.

"Mr. Weasley?" "Yes, Professor?" Ron asked quietly, coming to stand across the table from the headmistress.

"We need to have a talk in my office after lunch today. I expect to see you at one o'clock."

"Yes, ma'am," Ron said and moved to exit the staff lounge; Andie was waiting for him.

"Is something wrong?" she asked quietly, as they began walking towards the Transfiguration hallway.

"Not sure," Ron replied. "She just said she wanted to meet during my free period."

This seemed to concern Andie somewhat and they walked in silence towards her classroom. He dropped her at her doorway, kissed her gently on the cheek and made his way to his own classroom on the first floor.

His morning went by quickly and before he knew it he was heading up to the Headmistress's Office. He had been up here a handful of times and knew it hadn't changed much. He uttered the password ("Glumbumble") and followed the circular staircase up to the office door. He knocked twice before the door opened to admit him.

The silver instruments were still in the office, as were all the portraits. Dumbledore's portrait now sat directly behind the desk and Ron noticed that he was absent this morning.

"Mr. Weasley, please have a seat," said Professor McGonagall.

"Thank you, Professor."

"Do you know why I've called you here?" Ron shuddered involuntarily; he always figured that one shouldn't have to hear that phrase after becoming an adult.

"No, ma'am."

"I have received a number of owls about your class last week. Over half of which were howlers," she said slowly, indicating a scorch mark on her desk. "Why don't you tell me what your lesson was about?" 

"Well, if you remember, that was the day that the most recent article in the _Daily Prophet_ about Hermione's paper appeared, and the students had several questions about it." Ron was looking directly at Professor McGonagall as he talked.

"How did you handle those questions?"

"I turned it into a lesson. We used a Muggle method of solving problems to work through her theory."

"And how did this lesson end up?"

"It didn't get very far, because it took the students awhile to understand how to use the method, but it was a fun and informative lesson."

"Mr. Weasley, there are several parents that disagree with you. The Governors of the school have issued an edict that we not discuss this matter in any of the lessons. Teachers reported as discussing this 'unverified and insulting theory' will be suspended."

"And you agreed to this, Professor McGonagall?"

"I wasn't really given the choice, Ronald," she replied, irritated.

"You're allowing it anyhow. Professor Dumbledore would have never-"

"Professor Dumbledore would have done what he thought best for his students!" McGonagall exclaimed. "I'm only doing what I think best. Don't you understand how hard we've worked to achieve what we have in the past few years? You must."

"Of course I understand. My actions weren't without sacrifices or consequences, but I don't find myself parroting the Minister of Magic. Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed this, no matter what you say. He believed that first and foremost, this was a place of learning. I was being a teacher, Professor McGonagall."

"That is your opinion, Ronald. I assure you that you do not know how Dumbledore would have handled this situation anymore than I do. But it is not your job to tell me how to run this school. You will do as I say, or you will suffer the consequences. Do you have anything else to add?"

Ron glared at her, wondering if he should say anything further. McGonagall seemed to accept his silence as agreement and stood to dismiss him. "Actually, Professor, I do have something else to add," he said, stopping her. "Hermione Granger was one of your favorite pupils. You are her mentor. Do you really think her work so trivial that it shouldn't be discussed in a classroom?"

Professor McGonagall sighed. In that single instant, she changed from Ron's boss to the woman that had helped prepare him and his friends prepare for battle against Voldemort. "Ron, I personally believe that Hermione's work could be the most important thing to happen in magical science and medicine in hundreds of years. But I am not the sole voice of authority here. Don't you remember what happened to Dumbledore in your fifth year?

"You should know just as well as anyone what we've worked for. Many of the old ideas and traditions, which were indirectly responsible for what happened in the last war, have been systematically dismantled. Hermione's work is vital to that effort, but it may be too much too soon. There are a lot of good pureblood families, many of whom have members that sit on the Board for _this_ school, and her work is viewed as a slap to the face.

"I must be pragmatic and vigilant for my students. It is my job to make sure they receive the best education possible, but sometimes, the Board of Governors imposes their will and I have to do what they wish."

Ron nodded slowly. "But they're hiding the truth and I just can't condone that. Isn't the truth more important than a bunch of feelings? Especially when it comes to learning?"

McGonagall's eyes twinkled briefly and Ron was reminded of Dumbledore. "I believe you know what my personal answer to that question is, but I also believe that not everyone has the same power of insight that you do, Mr. Weasley. Now, I have a busy afternoon ahead of me, so if there isn't anything else, you may go."

Ron pushed his chair back, not really caring about the scraping noises. He was still furious at the Headmistress, but he could hear Hermione's voice in his head admonishing him to keep control of his temper. As he had no scheduled classes on Tuesday afternoon, he stepped silently from the office and let his feet carry him out of the school and down to the gates. From there, he apparated home and settled at the desk in his office to send an owl to Harry. He informed him of the conversation with McGonagall and sent Pig away with the missive. After the owl had cleared the window, Ron leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Taking several deep breathes, he allowed himself to settle down and let his thoughts wander over his conversation with McGonagall. A particular choice of words that she had used had been bothering him since he'd left the school. _Not everyone has the same power of insight that you do, Mr. Weasley;_ her words echoed in his mind, dredging up memories he had worked long and hard to suppress. 

"_Truth. This is the burden that you have chosen, Mr. Weasley. It will grant you the insight required to see your quest through to the end, but you must understand the cost. Are you willing to accept this?"_

"Yes," Ron answered simply, not trusting his own voice much beyond that.

" Please step forward and prove yourself worthy to know the absolute." The voice issuing from Remus's mouth was decidedly not the voice of his trusted mentor. Ron took a deep breath and pointed his wand at the stone basin.

He was instantly surrounded by warmth and light. There was a warm hand in each of his and he slowly recognized Hermione on his right side and Harry and his left. They were holding hands as well and he was struck by the perfection of their perfect, equilateral triangle. He grinned at Hermione who smiled sweetly at him. He grinned at Harry who merely winked. He watched as they looked at each other and flinched when he saw a spark between him that had not been there before. In an instant, they had both dropped his hands and were moving closer to each other, grasping at one another. In another moment, they had grabbed onto each other's free hands and were completely closed to him. Only Hermione turned her head to look at him, but long gone was the glint of love that he had seen there for so long.

He fell to his knees, onto the floor, curling into the fetal position. It was not what was between them that was tearing him apart, but it was the betrayal of their friendship. They would never do this to him, there was no way that Harry and Hermione could treat him this way. He thought of how she had smiled at him and felt hot tears flow freely down his cheeks. Something was wrong, something was missing-

"RON!" A loud scream echoed off the walls somewhere behind him. He blindly ran towards the screams, answering with his own terrified yells and wiping furiously at his tear-streaked face, trying to clear away his anger and focus his energy. He had barely registered that wherever he was, it was not the same place it had just been when he turned a corner and found Ginny standing alone in a dark chamber. She was in the dead center of the room and the only light was coming from overhead, in a green beam focused directly on her.

"Ginny?!" Ron shouted. He ran towards his sister but as soon as he was within arm's reach, a force snatched his body and flung him backwards. He hit the wall hard and crumpled to the floor. In a flash, his sister was hovering over him. The light around her had turned red and her red hair was blowing wildly around her head, each tendril looking like a long, crimson snake. Her eyes were the same red and her lips were as black as night. She grinned evilly at him and drew her wand, aiming it right between his eyes.

He opened his mouth to shout and something in his sister flinched. For a second, her eyes were their normal, bright brown. "NO!" he screamed, reaching out through the light-turned-flame, grabbing her arms. He shook her violently, and just as suddenly, everything was dark again.

He awakened slowly as a silvery light seeped into the room. A door creaked and there was the sound of feet and robes shuffling across the floor. Ron lifted his head slowly and nearly screamed when he came face to face with a snake. He threw himself back against the hard stone and tried to keep from screaming, for when he drew back, it was not a snake at all, but what had once been a human face.

"Ronald," the face hissed.

"I know who you are," Ron replied, his voice shaky.

"You think you do, but I assure you that I am not he."

"Then who are you?"

"I am far older than he, older than time you might say. Voldemort is merely a pet, as were those that came before him. His time is ending in this world and I am ready for a new…friend."

"So what do you want with me?" Ron asked, trying to keep from vomiting out of sheer terror.

"You are well-known to the Chosen One, the last in a long line of sons meant to guard the world against my followers. You would be a great ally in this battle to come."

"I'd rather die than betray Harry."

"Is that so? Even after how he's betrayed you, betrayed your family."

"How do you mean? Harry hasn't betrayed my family," Ron said, feeling more confused than afraid now. Obviously, this Big Bad Evil guy had the wrong person.

"He hurt your sister and now look what she has become. She has been the most helpful person over the past several weeks. And let us not forget, Ronald, that your friend has taken the woman you love."

Ron worked to give this man's voice out of his head, unwilling to listen to what he had to say. He could hear the voices of his best friends, urging him to clear his mind, to forget the anger that was beginning to bubble to the surface. His hands tightened into fists and he clenched his fingernails into the palms of his hands. They were pushing him to fight, telling him to think this through.

"You're lying," Ron spat out. He turned his head upward and looked into the face that had been speaking such ill words against the people most important to him. "That's not who they are – what I saw, those weren't my friends, that wasn't my sister."

The ashen, dead-looking face faltered slightly before the eyes went wide and turned blacker than anything Ron had ever seen. He felt himself momentarily focusing on those eyes, feeling entranced-

A roar issued forth from the deadly mask and the robed figure exploded into a thousand black flames. Ron screamed as the flames engulfed him and his world went black.

* * *

Thanks to my beta reader, Neil! Also, thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter IV. Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you so desire - I really appreciate your comments and thoughts! 


	6. Chapter VI

**A Long Way from Home**

**Summary**: Over five years after the Trio defeated Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they are beginning to put their lives back together. A long separation is now over and Harry, Hermione and Ron must learn to live at peace with the wizarding world. Rated "R" for strong language and some adult material. Contains H/Hr, Ron/OC and eventually, D/G.

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter VI** _December 12, 2003_ Bright orange flames licked the bricks lining the fireplace in the living room of 27 Hemlock Lane. A lone figure stood before the hearth, moving the logs around with a long poker. Her profile was forlorn, hair down and hanging limply around her face. She sighed and set the poker down before settling herself amongst a few pillows in front of the flames. 

This is how Harry found Hermione when he returned from a day interviewing prisoners at the Ministry. He had been working overtime as a Ministry contractor and was still conducting his own private investigation with the aid of several Order members. He had left the Ministry just after five and had met Arthur Weasley at the Leaky Cauldron. Arthur had given him several parchment rolls of notes about potential suspects and it would take Harry a couple of hours work to get through everything.

"Hermione?" Harry said quietly, not wishing to startle her.

"Oh, hi," she said slowly, turning to look at him. "How was your day?"

He held out a hand to help her off the floor. "It was busy. If you're free tonight, I have some notes I'd like your help with."

She nodded and led him into the kitchen, where a roast was waiting for them in the oven. She busied herself with the side dishes while he explained his newest information.

"We got a name today."

She rested a large serving spoon on the counter and turned to look at him. "Who is it?"

"Oistin Beryan. He's an American wizard with family ties in Ireland."

"The name's not familiar," Hermione replied, returning her concentration to the mashed potatoes.

"It wouldn't be. He's only 25 and I'm pretty sure the only reason he has any power is because he's rich. Something to do with Muggle investments in America."

"He doesn't sound like a very serious threat."

Harry shrugged. "He really isn't. I think he's just taking advantage of the situation to wreak havoc. His methods aren't very well thought out and his plans are very amateur."

"That's good news, I suppose," Hermione replied as she set a knife to chopping tomatoes for their salads. "I guess it means we aren't going to have to do much else." 

"Probably not. We'll keep watch as usual, but I think the Ministry can handle this one. I imagine that Scrimgeour is going to have to answer for all the uneasiness he caused. People have been pretty panicked."

"What else is known about him?" Hermione asked as she floated the food over to the table. She settled across from Harry and they began to make their plates.

"Not much, really. I get the feeling that the Aurors don't consider him a major threat."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione said, slamming her water glass onto the table. "He's caused some major incidents. He may not be the next Dark Lord, but he's still responsible for the deaths of several people. That can't go unpunished."

"And it won't," Harry replied. "He'll be found, captured and punished. Thankfully, this means the Ministry won't be rolling out those damn safety flyers again. I couldn't bear to know what Molly and Arthur's secret questions are again."

Hermione groaned and laughed for what Harry figured to be the first time in several days. Harry smiled at her. "What do you have planned tonight?"

"Not much. I need to go over some notes that Dr. Tyler sent today, but other than that, I'm open."

"Excellent. I'm in the mood for a game of Exploding Snap later, before we start going over those notes."

"Well that sounds like a whole bunch of fun, Harry. Are we going to put our old Hogwarts uniforms on and pretend we're in the Gryffindor common room?"

"Sounds kinky," Harry replied, grinning wickedly at her.

Hermione flushed and quickly took an oversized bite of her dinner roll.

Harry snickered and stabbed at a piece of meat with his fork. They ate in comfortable silence for awhile and had barely finished dinner when the doorbell chimed.

"Hello?" a familiar voice called out. "Anybody home?" Harry wondered idly why they even bothered to ring the doorbell; the wards were set to allow them immediate admittance.

"We're in the kitchen!" Hermione replied, standing up to greet Ron and Andie. The pair occasionally dropped in unannounced, but neither Harry nor Hermione ever really minded.

"Hullo, Harry, Hermione, what's going on?" Ron greeted them enthusiastically, picking up Hermione in his arms and giving her a huge hug. She laughed and patted him gently on the shoulder before turning to greet Andie. Harry greeted his friend and they went to the refrigerator to get beverages. Harry pulled out a bottle of wine to pour Hermione a glass and Ron took out two bottles of ale. Harry offered a glass to Andie, who refused immediately and grinned wildly at him.

Hermione noticed the look and smiled. "Oy, what's all the grinning?" she asked as Andie seated herself at the island in the center of the kitchen. Hermione stood on the other side, hands on hips.

It was Ron who answered. "She's pregnant!" Andie rolled her eyes and slapped Ron's arm.

"Way to keep the secret, Weasley." 

"Are you really?" Hermione asked, as Ron took a seat next to Andie. Harry moved to stand next to Hermione and rested his elbows on the high counter-top.

Andie nodded. "About six weeks, actually. I've only known a few days though."

"That's wonderful; congratulations, mate," Harry said, reaching across the island to slap Ron on the back. Hermione repeated his sentiment and squeezed Andie's hand.

"Cheers," Ron replied, looping his arm around his wife's shoulders and smiling goofily.

"Did you tell your mum yet?" Hermione inquired, smirking.

Ron laughed. "No way. I don't think I'm ready for that much emotion just yet. You ought to have seen her when Charlie told her that they were expecting Isaac. She was crying and all this nonsense."

"I wanted to keep it a bit of a secret until the pregnancy was further along," Andie explained.

Hermione nodded, "That's sensible, I think."

"But we had to tell you, of course," Ron said.

"Oh, come on, Ron, you have to tell everyone. You're no good at keeping secrets," Harry replied.

Ron agreed and took a swig of his ale. At this, Harry was prompted to toast Ron and Andie and they all clinked glasses.

"So, is anyone up for a game of Exploding Snap?" Harry asked, grinning. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Actually, mate, we can't stay too long. Andie just had a question for Hermione about a lesson tomorrow and I wanted to catch up with you on a couple of things." 

Harry pouted mockingly before nodding his head. "Alright then, let's go into my office."

Hermione settled in to talk to Andie and Harry led Ron to his office. Ron shut the door behind them and sat in a chair facing Harry's desk.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, his voice low.

Harry's face was suddenly serious as he sat next to Ron. "We don't know an awful lot right now. We've a name, and I think he's the leader of the whole thing." Harry filled Ron in on everything he had told Hermione and his best friend listened carefully.

"Do _you_ perceive him as a threat?" Ron asked, after Harry had told him the Ministry's position on Beryan.

Harry considered his friend carefully. "I'm not sure yet, hence the extra notes. I don't feel we have all the information required to make that assumption, so I'll continue running a side investigation for the Order." The Order remained together, albeit in fairly informal circumstances. Dumbledore had all but officially dissolved the group between the last two Voldemort wars, but Harry, as chosen successor, had opted to keep it running so that they could be more prepared the next time. 

"When do you make a report?" Ron asked, after Harry had finished his explanation.

"Your dad gave me a list of possible suspects, Beryan's followers. I need to go over those and investigate any leads before I make any further assumptions," Harry replied, motioning to the notes he had brought home.

"Do you need help?" Ron asked, eyeing the stack of papers wearily. 

"Not really. Hermione is going to help me go through them later."

Ron seemed relieved at this and Harry cracked a smile. "Do you think they're done yet?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't even really know what they're talking about. Just because my wife is a Transfiguration teacher doesn't mean I care anymore about the whole subject than I did when I was a student." 

Harry laughed and patted Ron on the back. "Good to know some things never change," he said. Ron smiled at him and Harry felt a rush of warmth for his long-time friend. His amazement had not yet ceased over what a truly great friend Ron was.

"How are you feeling, by the way?" Harry asked suddenly, deciding there wasn't really any easy way to broach the topic.

"Do you mean in general or in regards to, well, you know, the other day?" Ron replied quietly, looking down at his hands.

Harry sighed, thinking of their conversation in Ron's office only a week prior. He had read Ron's owl and walked right over to his friend's house. He had discovered Ron sitting stilly in a chair, staring straight ahead and looking ghostly pale. He had roused him and coaxed Ron into telling him what was wrong.

It was the first time Harry had ever really heard Ron's full account of his role in the ritual preparations. Hermione had shared her story easily enough, considering all she had seen. Ron, however, hadn't mentioned it once. Apparently, something McGonagall had said sent him to remembering and the two best friends spent over two hours talking through everything. Harry had felt the familiar guilt settle on his shoulders, but Ron had recognized this and had admonished him to let it go.

"The other day," Harry said.

"Alright. Had a couple of rough nights of sleep, but I'm feeling better. It's hard to be upset when there's so much good happening," Ron answered, smiling slightly. The smile turned quickly to a frown, however, as his gaze met Harry's. "You didn't tell Hermione about it?"

Harry shook his head. "It's not my story to tell, is it?"

After a long, silent moment, Ron nodded once and stood up. "Shall we check on the girls then?"

Shrugging, Harry stood as well and followed Ron back to the kitchen.

Andie and Hermione were still sitting in the kitchen, their heads bent close together in quiet discussion. Hermione was mapping out something carefully on a roll of parchment and Andie was asking pointed questions about her spells.

"I didn't think that would work?"

"Well, it wouldn't if you were using the passive form of the spell, but if you use the active 'ire', you'll get the correct result." 

Andie sighed. "Seems simple when you put it that way." 

Hermione just smiled and turned to look at Harry and Ron. "Alright, boys?"

Harry nodded as Ron went to wrap his arms around Andie's shoulders.

"Are you about ready to head home, love? Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

"Ugh, you're right. We'd better head out then. Cheers, Hermione, for your help," she said.

"Any time," Hermione replied kindly.

Harry walked the couple to the door as Hermione began to tidy up the kitchen. He wandered back in after checking that all of the wards were up properly. His heart leapt into his throat as he watched Hermione filling the sink with hot, soapy water. She was leaning on one hand against the counter and the other hand was rubbing at a spot on her neck. Her posture was tired and he could tell that her somber mood from earlier had returned.

Moving noiselessly across the room, Harry reached around Hermione and turned the water off. He lifted his hands to her shoulders and began rubbing them gently, feeling her immediately relax under his grip.

She moaned softly and let her head roll forward. Harry allowed his gaze to travel down to her bare neck and longed to kiss the soft, pale flesh there. She was suddenly too close to him, but he restrained the instinct to jump back from her. He settled on giving her shoulders a few more squeezes and stepping back slowly.

"I need to get started on those notes. If I don't get everything together tonight, I won't be able to look at them again until I return from New York."

"Do you still need my help?"

"I think you should sleep."

Hermione turned fully around to look at him. "I'm fine; I really want to help you with this." 

Harry considered her carefully. "I'll make you a deal. You've been working a lot lately, so take a break for tonight and I'll leave you half the list to look at while I'm gone. I have the Greater Pensieve to use for the next long while, so you can work without me."

Hermione's face brightened. "How did you get hold of that?"

Harry grinned over her excitement of the new toy. The Greater Pensieve preserved memories of all Ministry records and reports. Any known information on Beryan's group members would be in it. "The Minister loaned it to me." 

"Excellent. You've got yourself a deal, Potter, so I guess I'll head to bed after I finish these dishes." She leaned up and kissed him soundly on the cheek. "What time do you leave tomorrow?"

"After lunch. No sense in rushing off to the States so early when the time difference is what it is." 

"Lovely. Then I'll see you at breakfast." She turned back to the sink and began waving her wand over the dirty dishes.

Harry took himself back to the office and settled down with the rolls of parchment.

Hermione waited until after she heard the tell-tale pop of disapparation before she hurried up to Harry's office and settled down at his desk. A large, carved stone bowl was resting there, filled with a multi-colored fog of silver, gold, copper, lavender and white. She had seen it only once or twice before, during their studies of Horcruxes in seventh year. It was still a new device then and had been full of bugs, but this looked like a newer bowl and had different runes. The individual colors in the fog gave her hope that the magic had been much improved.

She took out her wand and stirred the contents softly, watching the colors swirl. She concentrated her thoughts as she held her wand in the Pensieve and soon an onyx thread slipped from the tip, swirling opposite the other colors. Mesmerized, Hermione watched as the shimmering shades slipped away, leaving only the copper and onyx threads. She leaned forward and let herself fall into the Pensieve.

_A large band struck up a merry little fanfare as the Trio entered a large Ministry ballroom. Foreign dignitaries, government higher-ups and countless friends and family members dotted the crowds edging the room. Harry looked dashing in black and burgundy dress robes. On his arm was Ginny, wearing a dark green gown. Hermione knew now that it was the last time they would be together for five years. She watched as a younger version of herself glided onto the dance floor behind Harry and Ginny, clutching happily to the arm of Ron. They were fresh from the war, still reeling with everything that had happened. For one night, however, they were happy and forgetful of everything that had transpired. For the last time, and maybe even the first, they were free to be young and innocent. The music changed to a dance and they were surrounded on all sides by countless witches and wizards, all fresh-faced and gleeful after such a spectacular victory._

Hermione was able to wander freely about the room, witnessing things she had missed the first time around. The Pensieve allowed for collective memories of an event and Hermione noticed how uncomfortable Ginny and Harry eventually grew in each other's arms. They hadn't been together, as Harry had so wished, since the previous June, but Molly prodded Harry to take Ginny to the Ministry Celebration Ball. He had agreed and thus, they were arm in arm and fairly miserable as the evening wore on. For her own part, she and Ron looked blissful, completely ignorant of the fights they would have over the coming weeks, as the other shoe finally fell. She remembered her own delight at the evening's events. Voldemort had fallen only two days prior and her whole future was stretching out before her. She was comfortable in Ron's arms and her parents were in view, dancing and occasionally turning to watch her dance.

Her father looked handsome in a tuxedo and her mother was wearing a long navy-colored dress. They looked much younger than she remembered them to be. Their only daughter was safe, the evil in her world vanquished for good. They didn't know the whole story, no one did, but it was enough to know that no harm could come to her anymore and that she was a hero.

It was a glorious night indeed; everyone was unaware of what awaited them in less than forty-eight hours. The overhead ceiling had been Vanished and in its place was simply the night sky. Owls zoomed across the starry expanse, carrying joyous words and loving missives far and wide. Shooting stars and magical fireworks blossomed like wild flowers. Reality could wait 'til morning, this night was theirs. 

Hermione was crying softly as her feet touched the solid floor of Harry's office. Those few days of happiness had a steep price, as they soon found out. If only they had known, if someone could have told them that it was too soon to celebrate.

Sighing, she settled herself down to go through Harry's notes, trying to push the relived memory out of her mind.

Several hours later, a light tapping came at the window and Hermione moved to let the local delivery owl in. It dropped the latest copy of the _Evening Prophet_ on the desk and held out a leg for her to deposit the fee. She fished a few Knuts from her pocket and dropped them in before picking up the paper and flipping through it casually. The front-page news was fairly mundane, but there was a long letter on the Letters Page that was about her. She sighed, debating whether or not she should even bother reading. Probably the same old drivel that it had been for weeks. She looked to the byline and paled slightly. Dr. Tobias Viridian was a renowned Healer at St. Mungo's and she had used a great deal of his research as a jumping off point for some of her own work. Knowing that she might regret it, she went ahead and read his Star Letter.

_Dear Madam Editor,_

Your continued coverage and editorials of the paper published by Ms. Granger on Magical Genetics is getting to be a bit repetitive. I personally do not agree with her tactics in publishing such a paper, as we are so fresh from a war fought largely over the differences between Muggleborns and Pureblood witches and wizards.

I believe her paper is unnecessary, as it should go unsaid that these two groups are anything but equal. Her paper eschews the importance of wizarding tradition and it is exactly the sort of thing that just stirs up trouble. By hypothesizing that wizards could not survive without Muggles, Ms. Granger has opened the floodgates for more animosity within our ranks. A careful balance has been achieved in recent years and I do not support this most recent attempt to usurp it.

Ms. Granger lost family and friends in the last war. Surely she of all people should understand the importance of maintaining the peace? We don't want a recurrence of the Last Battle so soon and if any of the recent attacks are evidence, it isn't likely that we'll get our wish. This is a time when we should be united, not divided. Shame on you, Ms. Granger.

Dr. Tobias Viridian  
Healer and Keeper of General Well-Being  
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

**Please note: Letters submitted via this forum are not considered the official opinions of the Evening Prophet, even if we happen to agree.**

Hermione glared at the _Evening Prophet_ briefly before she let her temper get the better of her. Picking up her wand, she blasted the paper, not really caring if Harry's desk was damaged. Her anger, frustration and hurt did not abate and she quickly left Harry's office, storming down the stairs and into her own study. She slammed the door, looking at all her papers and work materials. She had spent nearly five years working on this theory, hoping to better understand how magic worked. When she began working harder from a genetic angle, she had honestly believed her work would be for the better. It would prove once and for all that no particular group was better than any other. They were all pieces in a larger puzzle, each necessary for the other to survive. 

Clutching her hands in her bushy hair, Hermione let out a strangled cry and began pushing all her papers into a cardboard box. She was done with this whole thing. If the whole damned world around her wanted to stay in the 16th century that was just fine by her. 

_Damn them all_, she thought as tears slid down her face. Every frustration, every fear of the last five years was coursing through her veins as she placed files, rolls of parchment and loose notes into the box. She waved her wand finally, collecting the papers into a cyclone. She watched as her work spun wildly before shrinking itself and settling into the cardboard box. She shoved the whole mess into a cabinet and slammed the door to that as well. The tears continued unabated as she sat herself down on the floor, watching a few orphaned papers flutter towards the floor. She flicked her wand and each of the pages burst apart, scattering little white pieces of paper like snow.

Her mind skipped around; to the memory she had just watched in the Pensieve, to seeing her father dead in the kitchen, to Harry telling her goodbye, to her last fight with Ron. She remembered Dumbledore's funeral and everything that she had promised herself that day. She would stay by Harry's side and fight for this world. She would spend her life working to make sure that her own children and her children's children would never see what she had.

She knew now that it had simply been her age talking. She had been young and idealistic. Now, she knew there was no fixing any of it, not really. They may be magical, but they were still just humans. There was no fixing that. Sighing, Hermione trudged up to her bathroom and started the tub running as hot as it would go. She peeled her clothing off and sunk down into the hot water, hissing as it lapped at her skin, burning ever so slightly. The water singed at her nerves, stripping away her thoughts of anger and frustration. She was left only with sadness and a feeling of loss. All of that youthful idealism was gone and in its place, she was hollow. The last vestiges of innocence were finally gone and she was surprised at this, thinking it had all left her long ago. Her work had been a product of that innocence and Hermione felt a fool. Her feelings of anger and even betrayal slid away to make room for a new feeling. She wanted Harry. Her frustration welled further at his absence, and not for the first time, she wondered why. The memory in the Pensieve had been a reminder of what her feelings had once been like for Ron, but there was something different about this. She longed for Harry to swoop in and rescue her from her fears and regrets. She wondered when her life had become so complicated. Wasn't it only a few months ago that she'd been living in seclusion, enjoying her work and her alone time? She had cherished her ability to find inner peace and sanctuary – she hadn't needed it from anyone else. Now, she felt as if she might suffocate from the sheer need of Harry. She longed for his comforting embrace, knowing that his mere presence would calm her immensely. Her tears dried up and she let out a slow breath. It was by no means the first cry she'd had over the events of her life, but perhaps it was the first that had done any good. She lay in the tub until the water began to chill. It was late then and she was exhausted from her outburst. Sighing, she drained the tub and donned her pajamas and a pair of fuzzy slippers. Fifteen minutes later, she was making her way to bed with a cup of tea and a piece of chocolate, determined to wallow just a little while longer.

She awoke early the next morning to a gray sky and an eerie silence over everything. She walked across her bedroom to the window and pulled back the curtains.

"Oh!" she cried, looking out over the lane stretching to Hogsmeade. The whole area was blanketed in pristine white snow. As she looked out over the virgin, glittering expanse, she felt her frustrations and hurts of the past twelve hours slip away. Her heart softened and she felt herself smiling contentedly for the first time in several weeks. She heard Christmas carolers in the lane, singing "Jingle Bells" and laughed softly. Determined, she quickly went downstairs. In her study, she wrote a quick note to Ron, inviting him and Andie to dinner. She looked at her watch. 8 o'clock. Harry would be home close to dinnertime.

After a quick breakfast, Hermione went to her wizarding wireless and turned the dial until soft Christmas music floated out of the device. She showered and changed into jeans and a sweater. With her wand, she began hanging various Christmas decorations, all the while humming along to the carols. Quite simply, she was determined to enjoy the next few weeks. She pushed work from her mind, purposely forgetting her feelings and frustrations over everything. Her tears the night before had been cleansing and she actually felt _lighter_. It was her first Christmas among the living (as she had come to call it) and she would not allow events out of her control to ruin that.

She was satisfied with the decorations, including a real pine tree, adorned with various magical ornaments, before she headed out to Diagon Alley to finish her Christmas shopping. Harry, Ron and her mother were all that remained, simply because they were the hardest gifts. For her mother, she stepped in Madam Malkin's, looking for a self-tailoring cloak. She knew that giving it to a Muggle was a legal gray area but she wasn't worried about anyone finding out. She picked through everything on display before settling on a deep emerald green cloak of soft wool. It was practical but still had a luxurious feeling to it. Madam Malkin wrapped it up for her and promised to have it delivered by owl before the end of the day.

Harry's gift was harder still to find. She found him a book, published by Colin Creevy, of moving landscapes. Colin had started selling the series last year and his latest book was seascapes, complete with waves and jumping dolphins. It reminded her of some of the things Harry had told her about North Carolina, which apparently had a far more pleasant, or at the very least temperate, coast than Scotland.

Still, it wasn't the only thing she wanted to get him, so after grabbing a quick lunch, she decided to go after Ron's gift instead. She ended up in Muggle London, looking at men's watches. Ron had a watch similar to the one Dumbledore had carried for years; it had been a gift for his seventeenth birthday. She picked out a silver-banded watch with a sleek black face and headed back to Diagon Alley. She spent awhile longer searching for Harry's gift before finally deciding to apparate home, leaving it to be purchased at a later time.

Harry greeted her at the door when she arrived on the front walk. He looked comfortable in old jeans and a sweater and she moved to hug him, taking him by surprise. She reached up and kissed his cheek 

"Alright then?" he asked, smiling at her.

She nodded. "Absolutely."

"I saw that letter in the _Prophet_…"

"I don't want to talk about it. You're done working for the next few weeks and so I am. It's going to be Christmas soon and frankly, I deserve a break." 

Harry's smiled widened. "Absolutely you do. Need help with anything around here, then?"

"Well, Ron and Andie are coming for dinner, so if you want to help with the food, that'd be great."

Harry followed her into the kitchen and lit a fire in the hearth. They set about preparing a chicken for roasting and Hermione put in a pumpkin pie to bake. After the preparations for the dinner were made, they settled in the living room, with more Christmas music on the wireless and another fire going.

As Harry chatted animatedly about all of the Christmas activity he had seen while in New York City, Hermione's heart fluttered. He was resting in a large easy chair with his long legs stretched out on the ottoman. Remembering her feelings from the previous night, she felt the desire to curl up in the chair with him. As he talked, however, she decided to shelve those thoughts for the next few weeks as well. This whole schoolgirl crush she was slowly developing on him would simply not do, especially since it was doubtful he felt the same way. To be sure, there had been some tense moments in the past few weeks, but those could be easily explained away.

A small tinkling sound issued from the fireplace, where the flames were beginning to turn green. Ron's head popped out of the fire a few heartbeats later.

"Hullo," he said. 

"Evening, Ron. Is everything alright?" Hermione asked.

"We aren't going to be able to make it tonight. Andie came home from work not feeling very well, so we're just going to stay in."

"Tell her that I hope she feels better, please," Hermione replied.

Ron smiled gratefully. "Will do. We'll make it over in a couple of days, I promise."

"Alright, mate. Take care," Harry responded.

"Cheers," Ron said as his head disappeared and the flames returned to a normal color.

"Well, it looks as if it will be just us," Harry stated obviously. "Shall we open a bottle of wine then?"

"Sounds like a fine idea," Hermione said. She watched Harry pull himself out of the chair and saunter into the kitchen. He returned after a few minutes with an open bottle and a couple of glasses. He set the entirety of it down on the coffee table and flicked his wand at the bottle, chilling it to the perfect 15 degrees. He poured her glass first and handed it to her.

"A toast. To Christmas and good friends," Hermione said, her voice quiet and serious despite the gaiety of her words.

Harry nodded slightly and clinked his glass against hers. They drank in companionable silence for a while before Hermione stood up to show Harry Ron's Christmas gift. She sat on the ottoman and he looked over her shoulder as she opened the box.

"I like it. He'll get a kick out of it." 

"I thought he might. I got Mum's present as well, but I can't figure out what to get you," she said, her eyes twinkling merrily.

"You don't have to get me anything." 

"Don't be silly. I have to get you a Christmas gift. I've a streak to maintain."

"Having you here is enough," he said quietly, reaching up to gently brush his fingers against her cheek. She watched as his eyes traced a path from her lips to her eyes and she felt her breath catch in her throat. For the first time in several weeks, she allowed herself to look at him and what she saw in his eyes was a shock. Gone was the friendly love and camaraderie that had lived there. In its place was blatant desire mixed with a bit of fear and uneasiness. The last few weeks had been hard on her, trying to eradicate any thoughts of Harry that weren't purely friendly. It had been sheer agony; at many odd moments, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and snog him senseless, wherever they happened to be standing. She saw now that the time hadn't been very easy on him either.

Perhaps it was the wine, though she desperately hoped it wasn't, but Hermione felt a bit of the old Gryffindor bravery sweep through her. She turned her head ever so slightly to the side and kissed the tips of Harry's fingers gently. His eyes sought hers out again and he leaned forward, bringing his lips within mere centimeters of hers. She moved slightly and felt his breath against her lips. Their eyes met once again before she closed hers and moved in to kiss him.

His lips were soft and slightly dry and they yielded to her advances easily. She slid her tongue gently against them and his mouth opened, allowing her admittance. She smiled lightly around their kisses, reveling in the feelings of his lips, of his hands roaming over her back.

He pulled apart from her and looked at her, his eyes searching. "Hermione…"

She shook her head and kissed him again, for she was unwilling to speak right now, to try and make sense of any of this. She had been floating through her days before this, the last several months a strange blur of work and haunting images of those green eyes. Now, everything was oddly vibrant and she felt light-headed. The mood shifted just a heartbeat after she'd leaned in too kiss him and the intensity of their ministrations increased steadily.

After a few minutes he pulled her into his lap and she adjusted herself comfortably, wrapping her arms around his neck. The times that she had allowed herself to daydream about this moment, she had dreamed that it would be like a whirlwind. That it would happen quickly, without warning, and would tear her apart. This, however, was like a slow burn. She was heady and intoxicated by the smell of him, by the feel of him. Those long seeker's fingers of his were dancing softly over her back, tracing patterns that sent shivers up and down her spine.

She broke away from him for a minute, looking fully at him. His eyes were partially closed and were slightly clouded over. She leaned in and planted a few more quick kisses on his lips and was about to back away, perhaps ready to have a conversation about what _exactly_ was happening, when he snaked a hand into her curls and held her there. They kissed awhile longer, complete with soft moans and whispers of nothingness as they explored each other, pushing their kisses deeper. After awhile, it was Harry who pulled back and looked at her carefully. There was a definite question in his eyes, though she was unsure of what it was. At that moment, she decided it didn't matter. For him, right now, in this moment, she would do anything. He stood up and pulled her after him. She sighed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned into his embrace, trembling slightly as his fingers traced over her lower back and he planted soft kisses along her cheekbones. She felt a telltale hardness pressing against her hip and the knowledge of its presence further intensified the desire that was forming in a tight knot in her stomach.

"Harry? Hermione?" A voice called to them from the fireplace.

Hermione stepped back quickly, blushing. She turned to face Ginny, who looked to be blushing as well.

"I'm sorry – to be busting in on you like this, but Ron wanted me to floo you."

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked, worried deeply by the tone in Ginny's voice. Harry came around behind her and looked into the fire.

"Andie's gone into St. Mungo's. I don't know anything else – just that."

"We'll be right there," Harry replied. "Is there anything we need to bring?"

Ginny looked flustered. "I'm really not sure – I- I'm just relaying the message, Harry. You can ask Ron when you get here."

Harry nodded and the flames quickly cut back to their normal colors. Hermione turned and looked at Harry, who now looked very sad. He laced his fingers with hers and together, they moved to apparate to the hospital.

Ron perched on the edge of an uncomfortable, beige hospital chair. Wizards had the power of the universe virtually at their fingertips, but couldn't seem to advance beyond a hard, generic chair in the Emergency Waiting Room. The doctors were still in with Andie and he couldn't shake the image of her white face as she clutched at her abdomen.

"Ron?" a welcome and familiar voice echoed slightly in the large room. He lifted his head to see Harry and Hermione coming straight towards him. Harry's face was still and slightly pained. Hermione looked beyond worried and if the situation hadn't been what it was, he would have laughed over how much she looked like his mum at that moment.

Hermione reached him first and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Is everything ok? What's happened?" she asked, pulling back. 

"Something with the baby, not sure what's going on just yet. I'm waiting for the Healer to come out."

"Do you need us to get you anything?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. "Not yet. I want to wait to hear anything before I even…think, I guess. Have you talked to Mum?"

Harry shook his head. "Just Ginny, and only briefly."

"I imagine they'll all be here soon," Hermione added, keeping her hand clasped with Ron's as she and Harry settled on either side of him. Soon enough, a group of Weasleys arrived, minus Bill. Molly wrapped her son in a large hug and let her husband ask the questions. 

They were quieted down by a Healer entering the room.

"Mr. Weasley?" he asked, looking at Ron.

Ron nodded at him. "Go ahead, sir. My family can hear any news."

"Your wife is stable; we've moved her to the third floor. She needs to be watched over carefully for the next few days, but she's going to be fine."

"What about- what about the baby?" Ron managed, panic shooting through him as he asked. No one in the room aside from Harry, Hermione and Ginny had even known that Andie was pregnant and the third floor was the ward for poisons and potion accidents.

The Healer frowned. "I'm afraid, sir, that we weren't able to save the pregnancy. We'll keep a watch over Mrs. Weasley for the next few days to watch for any permanent damage." 

"Permanent?" Ron said, his voice low.

"It's a precaution we have to take. We're still unsure as to what caused the termination."

Ron's felt his face burning red and he felt Hermione's hands pulling him away from the Healer as his family closed in on the other wizard, rapidly firing questions at him.

She guided him to a chair and leaned against him, hugging him. He felt tears well up in his eyes and he swiped at his face with the back of his hand.

"Do you want to go up and see her?" Hermione asked him, keeping her voice quiet.

He only managed a brief nod and she instantly was pulling him from the chair and leading him towards the lift. Harry followed close behind and they entered the car, pressing the button for the correct floor. They rode up from the ground floor, where the five year old emergency ward was located, and exited the elevator into a pink lobby. There was a receptionist behind a glass window and she looked at them over thick-framed glasses as they approached.

"Patient name?" she sniped, her voice high and nasally.

"Weasley, Andromeda Weasley," Ron replied.

"Relation?" 

"I'm her husband."

The witch looked at a partially rolled piece of parchment. "Ah, yes. Mrs. Weasley may only have one visitor at a time. The others may remain in the waiting room or in the hallway."

She dismissed them with a wave, directing them down a hallway to their left.

Ron led the group to a door about a third of the way down the hall. He pushed the door open gently, leaving Harry and Hermione alone as he heard the voice of his mother coming from the lobby.

Andie was lying in the hospital bed, her eyes closed. Two potion drips hung to the left of the bed and there was a small, ticking talisman next to her head. It monitored her heartbeat and was glowing steadily as he placed a hand on her forehead and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

She opened her eyes, confusion apparent. She looked at him questioningly for a few heartbeats before letting out a low moan. Tears sprang to her eyes and she took in a deep breath.

"Oh, Andie," Ron whispered, clutching both of her hands between his.

"-so sorry," she mumbled, her speech slurred slightly from the medication coursing through her veins.

He shook his head and kissed her fingers. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you so much, Andie."

He reached up and wiped the tears from her face. She returned the favor and they looked at each other, each grieving in their own way. Finally, their hurt got the better of them and he curled against her on the bed, letting his own tears flow freely.

It was two days later, Tuesday, that Andie was released from St. Mungo's. She looked thinner and still quite weak as Harry and Hermione helped them get settled. Hermione left them with several meals, instructing Ron on how long to heat everything for, and promises that she and Ginny would be over the next day to keep Andie company while Ron went back to school.

After his friends left, he settled Andie in their large bed, making sure that her pillows were situated right and that she had enough blankets. 

"I can fix my own pillows," she commented dryly, the agitation evident in her voice.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm just trying to make sure you're comfortable." 

"I don't deserve to be comfortable," she mumbled, her hands pressing against her flat stomach.

"Andie-" Ron began, his voice tight.

"Just – can I be alone for awhile? Please?" Her voice was controlled, but he saw sadness in her eyes. He merely nodded and kissed her gently. He walked to the door and closed it behind him, hearing the short sobs erupt from his wife. Her tears were long overdue, as she hadn't displayed that much emotion after they took her off the pain potion; her room had a revolving door of visitors. Ron's very heart ached as he listened momentarily, fighting the urge to push the door up and gather her up into his arms. It wouldn't do her any good right now and that knowledge went against the grain of his being. He resigned himself to it and went silently to the living room, his heart breaking with each step away from the bedroom.

True to her word, Hermione arrived in the morning just as a delivery owl dropped an envelope in Ron's lap. Ginny entered the kitchen shortly following Hermione and watched silently as he opened the letter.

He read it carefully, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"The Healer says it was a poison, delivered via a drink of some sort, probably at Hogwarts. There's a – we might not be able to have children," he reported, his words catching in his throat. 

Hermione gasped audibly and Ron felt the crush of his baby sister's arms around him. She was hugging him furiously as Hermione fidgeted nervously, unsure of what her reaction should be. He held Ginny tightly, feeling all his mental resolve crumble around him. Hermione was soon at the fireplace, calling Harry over.

Ron looked between the two women and realized that the next few minutes would be too much to bear. The questions would be like knives through his stomach and he couldn't bear to see how Andie would take the news. He had said his goodbyes to her already, so he simply grabbed up his satchel and stormed out of the house, moving determinedly towards the school.

Ginny called after him, but he ignored her as panic raised fresh in his mind. His thoughts were reeling; his wife had been poisoned and they may never be able to have children. All of the events going on, between the Dark and Light forces, had seemed so distant. Once again, however, evil was hitting to close to home. Ron shuddered as he let off an accidental burst of magic, igniting a small patch of wildflowers in blue flames.

Hedwig was waiting patiently in his office, holding a rolled piece of parchment. He took it from her and unrolled the note.

_R-,_

Received news about poison – OP will reconvene to discuss the ongoing issues. Time and place will arrive in usual manner.

-H

Ron let out a sigh of relief. Harry would take care of this; he always did.

* * *

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.


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